


Cyrano de Huberac

by idanato



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Humor, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Pining, Past Break Ups, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, bad fodlan parenting, but not for bernie's dad, minor Ferdinand/Lorenz - Freeform, toxic hubert/shamir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 93,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22264315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato
Summary: What do you do when the woman you find yourself infatuated with is completely unable to look at your face? A post war Hubert and Bernadetta romantic comedy, with plenty of drama (past and present).[Also happening in the background, the planning of a truly epic Imperial Wedding between Edelgard and Claude, and the wedding of Byleth and Dimitri, all as a means to secure peace…]
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 257
Kudos: 213





	1. An Indecent Tea Time

**Author's Note:**

> Initial Inspiration:  
> Cyrano de Bergerac (1897) and Roxanne (1987)

_**Verdant Rain Moon, 1186** _

Hubert read over the blackmail letter again in silence. Across from him Ferdinand was watching his every move with wide, watery eyes. The young noble cleared his throat, “I understand if you think the Emperor should maintain a healthy distance,” his voice dropped, “And I understand if you no longer wish to be associated with the likes of me.”

Hubert’s eyes flashed up to his friend and he resisted the urge to smirk. Ferdinand needed a gentle touch right now, but this blackmail attempt was outright pathetic. It would be hilarious if it was happening to someone Hubert didn’t like. He tossed the hateful paper onto the tea table and took a long drawn out sip while Ferdinand blew his nose into a well accessorized handkerchief. Hubert leaned back and folded his arms to study this man who he had come to school ready to hate — he was a von Aegir damn it! The spawn of the very worst of politicians — and now the indiscreet, bubbly fool had tricked him into becoming his best friend. “I have never _wished_ to be associated with the likes of you Ferdinand, yet here I am taking tea with you. If I did not enjoy your company, trust I would not be here.”

“This is a scandal Hubert, please, be serious for once in your miserable life,” said Ferdinand as his lip trembled.

“Scandal? Please, this is a weak threat, at best,” said Hubert knowingly. This would barely make the second page of the paper. Everything about Ferdinand was exaggerated, especially his ego.

“I should take a wife, to quiet these rumors,” whispered Ferdinand into his teacup.

Hubert frowned at the suggestion, “I would advise against that.” No one would be happy in such an arrangement. It killed Hubert that Edelgard was embarking on a political marriage to seal this peace. He would not see his other friends needlessly sacrifice their private lives for the sake of appearances, not if he could help them avoid it.

“Well, then I have no future in politics,” said Ferdinand with an uncharacteristically resigned look.

Hubert scoffed, “Politics are changing Ferdinand, we can change too.”

“But, the Prime Minister, cannot be,” Ferdinand’s voice trailed off as he failed to complete the sentence.

Hubert sighed, “Gay? And yes, I would say you can be, because anyone who has spent more than a minute around you has an inkling that is the case, and yet you were still made Prime Minister.” It was good Ferdinand was Prime Minister and not spy master because he clearly had no concept of being undercover. “That you prefer the company of men pales in comparison to your vast list of problems.”

Ferdinand sat up straight at that declaration and frowned, “Hubert! You have no idea what it’s like to have to hide such a secret. I am a master of discretion and of concealing my true self.”

Hubert gave a questioning look to the letter of blackmail, “It says here you were receiving a blow job under a tea table Ferdie, I wouldn’t exactly call that being a master of discretion.” The clothes, the hair, the drama injected into every flourishing word; Ferdinand was like a chicken trying to hide in the fox den. Everyone knew.

Ferdinand turned the same red as his rich cravat.

“Blushing like that does not suit you, it clashes with your hair,” said Hubert in amusement.

“You are simply horrid,” said Ferdinand angrily. “This is a serious problem I’m facing.”

“I know,” whispered Hubert as he grew somber. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, mostly because such breaches of etiquette always drove Ferdinand so crazy. He brought his hands together and gently tapped his index fingers to his lips in thought. He closed his eyes and envisioned the fallout. Edelgard was going to be pissed, but only because that was one of her favorite tea tables Ferdinand had desecrated with his creamer. There would probably be a handful of unflattering political cartoons that would hurt Ferdinand’s feelings. These things would blow over like the leaves that would soon be dropping from the trees.

Long term however, this did pose an interesting opportunity. There would be a question of what Ferdinand’s personal affairs meant for succession of the post of Prime Minister, but perhaps a conscious rejection of hereditary offices was exactly what their new Fodlan needed. “Taking care of this quietly would be easy. However, there may be some wisdom in bringing this to light.”

Ferdinand looked positively terrified by the suggestion. “Oh easy for you to say, you are not the one everyone hates--”

Hubert burst out laughing, “No one hates you Ferdie. People do actually hate me though, so stop trying to monopolize misery.” He drew in a quick breath and dropped his hands, “If you truly wish to marry for the sake of appearances, you need to be upfront about what it is from the start to your wife. In that case, someone like Dorothea might be ideal, I mean she had to go on tour because she ran out of fresh pussy in Enbarr, and you and her could probably arrange—”

Ferdinand was aghast, “Your language is appalling.”

“I’m appalling,” promised Hubert with a wolfish smile. “Anyway. As I was trying to say, you could have a perfectly loveless fake marriage that could benefit both you and your wife, however, I would still say that this is something you should just live openly with. Blackmail is only useful when people are afraid of their truths. Gain the upper hand and give them nothing.”

Ferdinand looked tense and scared, “I do not think I’m able to do that. You simply cannot understand what it is like.”

Hubert sighed, he understood better than Ferdinand gave him credit for. Their fathers had brutally shaped them, and they had started a war to break those molds. For Hubert, he was trying to be his own person instead of the Emperor’s shadow, but he was frankly failing at that right now. Ferdinand had been raised to be the picture of male nobility, which in their youth was a potent mix of misogyny and heterosexuality. However, the nobility was being torn down and restructured, the government was changing. Political marriages would still reign supreme, but they were freer to choose their own fate in this world they had fought for.

“You’re one of the bravest and most courageous people I know,” said Hubert as he stared at Ferdinand. “You will receive insults, but you will best them. You will dodge and deflect. And think about it this way, you have a duty to lead by example. Consider all the other people like you, hiding themselves away, because they have no power and no protection. You do, use it.”

Ah Ferdinand’s weakness, the desire to lift people up and help them to rise above their current lot. He was doing a marvelous job rolling out literacy and educational reforms across the continent. This tactic was like dangling a mouse in front of a cat, how could Ferdinand resist the urge to pounce on such a task? However, von Aegir still looked unconvinced.

“Think about your legacy Ferdinand,” said Hubert carefully as he finished his tea. He did have another meeting to run to and he sensed Ferdinand was going to take a while to make a decision about this, maybe even years. Hubert rose and straightened out his vest. “Think about if you’d like the history books to remember you as just another closeted queen, or as someone who bravely paved the way for a more tolerant Adrestia.”

Ferdinand balked at being called a closeted queen, and Hubert regretted the careless jab. They weren’t school boys anymore, this was Ferdinand’s heart he was hurting, not just his pride. “I am sorry for being cruel with my words, I fear it is my natural tendency.” Hubert was attempting to be better but his old habits of verbally tearing into others remained. He sighed, “I’ll make the blackmailer go away, but you have to be the one to make a choice on how you wish to move forward.”

His next meeting was with Edelgard. Hubert was expecting critical matters of state. He was given a sketchbook of wedding dress designs. Hubert would rather plan another war than work on this wedding. He sighed, “You know you pulled me away from managing Ferdie’s latest crisis for this.”

“Oh right, the fellatio fanatic,” giggled Edelgard as she offered him tea. Hubert wondered just how far this story had spread before the blackmail started. 

Hubert held up his hand to decline, he had drank more than enough tea for the week, “I’m gently nudging him towards coming out publicly and away from a marriage for appearances.”

Edelgard sipped her tea and sighed. “Well, I would be a massive hypocrite if I told him to do that. So I will leave that to you, though I daresay you have no expertise on such matters.”

His heart reflexively cried out at her words. She professed to finding Claude attractive, but she barely knew him. This was one of two marriages to keep the peace. Byleth would marry Dimitri, and Edelgard would marry Claude, and neither woman would ever officially be together. This was the cost of peace with minimal bloodshed. Hubert was ashamed that he would readily go out and kill them all to leave Edelgard happy. That was not an option.

Hubert studied the sketches, they all looked vaguely similar to him. Yet he moved slowly to hang on to every minute spent with Edelgard. Who knew how many moments like this they would have after her marriage? He didn’t want to lose his oldest, best friend, but their dynamic was undoubtedly going to change after she wed.

It had always been a scandal, a crestless boy assigned to be so close to a princess, and it had only gotten worse as they’d gotten older. He was never meant to be heir of house Vestra, and she had certainly not been expected to ascend to Ionios’ throne. Yet here they were, Minister of the Imperial Household and Emperor. They were too close for anyone’s comfort.

They weren’t lovers, even though a non-insignificant amount of his life had been spent wishing they were. He had even haphazardly confessed his romantic feelings for her after the war, and she had been rendered speechless. It was hardly the “ _Oh Hubert, I’ve always wanted you too_ ,” he’d been hoping for. It had been more of a “ _Ha, oh, well, Hubert, you never cease to surprise me!_ ” It was a flawlessly diplomatic way of saying it was never going to happen. Then she got engaged to a prince, and Hubert finally accepted the message loud and clear.

He had gone on a month long vacation with Dorothea to drown his sorrows after that. They went to Brigid so Dorothea could try to conquer the archipelago, starting with its Queen. Within the first few days Dorothea got excruciating jaw pain, and Hubert got a major sunburn. They drank a lot of alcohol mixed with tropical fruits out of fancy shaped glasses to ease their physical and emotional pain. He learned to shake off his pining for Edelgard, albeit by subjecting Dorothea and Petra to a lot salty tears that he tried to hide by frequently jumping into the sea, and his two friends helped pick up his spirits and tried to find the silver lining in his situation.

He was free. Just as Ferdinand was free to take the lover of his liking, Hubert was allowed to step from Edelgard’s shadow and direct his own life. He was free to love someone else. He was also obligated to begin courting someone to help put any rumors about his relationship with the Emperor to rest as he oversaw the planning of this massive state wedding.

Hubert was fine with things like security details. He understood formal invitations to dignitaries and strategic seating assignments. He was less comfortable with the current predicament: a wedding dress worthy of the Emperor. Could such a thing exist? He was also being tasked to work with his Alliance equivalent, Hilda Valentine Goneril, and she was making things extra difficult and they weren’t even working together in person yet.

“Can’t you get Ferdinand to help you with this?” begged Hubert as he flipped through the too many options.

Edelgard smiled softly, “He’d have me in something too grand, with ruffles and lace. He’d drown me in pearls and crush me with crinoline. No, I’d prefer your sense of restraint.”

“This is more a job for Dorothea, or Petra,” insisted Hubert. It was a job for someone with a fashion sense. Hubert was clean lines and sharp edges, not, not this. He hardly dressed as finely as Ferdinand and Edelgard because he didn’t have the eye for it. He preferred to wear the same thing all the time, essentially a uniform, because it saved him the trouble of having to think too hard about how he looked. He had found precisely one good looking outfit after the war and he was sticking with it.

“Petra is running a whole country, and Dorothea is never in one city for more than a few weeks,” sighed Edelgard as she flipped through sketches of veils. “I like this,” she passed him a drawing of a long veil edged with fine embroidered flowers. It was nice to hear her say she liked something for a change; she was apathetic towards the wedding, and apathetic towards the marriage. Hubert had a duty to her, not as her minister, but as her friend, to lift her spirits and plan the best damn wedding possible.

Hubert’s heart stirred as he looked at the floral veil and remembered a flower that sat, unworn, on his dresser. “What about Bernadetta? She has a very fine eye for these kinds of details.” Beyond the attire she could surely help with the floral arrangements.

“You don’t think this will be overwhelming to her?” Edelgard did not appear particularly convinced.

It was overwhelming him. Who knew how Bernadetta would fair in the face of all this planning and decision making. There was only one way to find out.

Hubert sent a formal summons:

> _Dear Ms. von Varley,_
> 
> _Your immediate presence is requested in Enbarr by her majesty, Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg I. There are some matters of state for which your expert advice would be greatly appreciated. We will host you in the palace, pay for your travel, and compensate you for your time._
> 
> _The Emperor’s wedding is fast approaching, and we call on your skills to come help in outfitting her majesty. You will have access to the finest team of tailors Enbarr has to offer, and full creative control. I trust that you will ensure our Emperor is without parallel as she walks down the aisle this Garland Moon._
> 
> _Please send your response as soon as possible so that I might make the proper arrangements for your visit._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Hubert von Vestra_
> 
> _Minister of the Imperial Household_

He received only silence in response. Perhaps his stiff language and official tenor had frightened her. Hubert sent another letter to follow up with something a little more personal.

> _Dear Bernadetta,_
> 
> _I apologize if my last letter came off as too stiff and formal. In truth I find myself rather nervous to be writing you again after not hearing from you in so long. I hope you have found yourself well and enjoying the peace of the last year._
> 
> _The Emperor would still greatly enjoy it if you to come to Enbarr to help with the upcoming imperial wedding. As stated in the previous invitation, you would not have to worry about anything, as the Emperor and I will see that all your needs are met._
> 
> _I would personally appreciate your help, as the Emperor has seen fit to task me with helping her to hammer out all the details of this wedding, including her attire. I recall your superb skills with a needle, and would be extremely grateful for your keen eye and kindly help. I still keep the embroidered favor you once bestowed upon me, and think that such rare talents would be well suited to making the Emperor’s wedding attire as magnificent as possible._
> 
> _I eagerly await your response,_
> 
> _Hubert_

Still no response. Hubert got a little desperate and concerned.

> _Dear Bernadetta,_
> 
> _Please at least let me know if you are not interested in visiting Enbarr. I grow concerned by your silence, please respond so that I know everything is alright. I would very much like to hear from you even if I cannot be graced with the pleasure of your presence._
> 
> _Yours,_
> 
> _Hubert_

That did draw a response, just not from Bernadetta.

> _Minister von Vestra:_
> 
> _Bernadetta is currently unable to respond to your request. Cease your letters._
> 
> _Count von Varley_

Hubert worriedly booked himself a trip to the Varley territory and prepared for the worst.


	2. Seven Deadly Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip back in time for Bernadetta and Hubert's C support

**1180, Garreg Mach**

Attending Church services once a week was required. The Blue Lions were always at the front, the Golden Deer usually managed to pull their act together to get there just on time, and the Black Eagles always trickled in late if they bothered to come at all. Seteth was unimpressed to say the least, and warned Byleth to get her class in line.

Byleth treated church like a battle, and made sure her students were always ready to ship out. They arrived there early for the first time all semester and were forced to sit in the very front pew. Byleth already knew their dynamics were, to put it simply, not good. She arranged her students in a strategic line down the length of the pew.

First, Dorothea, since she could not flirt with an empty aisle, though she would try, and then Ferdinand, who Dorothea refused to humor. Next, Linhardt, who always tried his best to sleep through the service. A pleasant solution to this problem was Petra, who was always quick to want to impress and forced Lin to stay awake. Next, Edelgard, who never spoke during the service and merely stared ahead at Rhea. Then Caspar, who did not understand silence, so Hubert was beside him to hiss “ _shut up_ ” as needed, and then some. Lastly, Bernadetta, so she could escape quickly when all of it was done. This was their assigned seating for the rest of the semester.

From that service on the Black Eagles were forced to be the first to arrive and the last to leave. Seteth approved, he suspected that troublesome lot needed church the most out of all the students in the Officer’s Academy. The Blue Lions were gracious as their front row seats were sacrificed for the greater good. The Golden Deer thought it a good deal in that they now occupied the back row.

Rhea spoke eloquently on goodness and sin. Byleth paid close attention because all of this was new to her. Rhea extolled the seven heavenly virtues and warned about the seven deadly sins. Byleth could not help but see these exemplified in some of her students. It was easy to pick Blue Lions that fit the virtues. Prudence, Ingrid, always dedicated to her dream. Temperance, Dedue, able to always be the better man. Charity, Ashe, giving even when he had little. Hope, Annette, that people could change for the better. Courage, Felix, speaking truth even when no one wanted to hear it. Justice, Sylvain, keenly aware of his own privilege. Faith, Mercedes, believing despite life’s terrible sins against her. Dimitri therefore must be akin to Seiros and all that was good. He certainly appeared that way on his surface.

The Black Eagles in their front row pew were the sins. Lust, Dorothea and her desires. Envy, Ferdinand and his competitiveness. Pride, Petra and her dreams for her subjugated island. Greed, Caspar always wanting to be stronger. Sloth, Bernadetta shut up in her room. Gluttony, Linhardt putting his research and whims above all else. Wrath, Hubert, no explanation needed. Byleth vaguely wondered if this made Edelgard Nemesis, and what that meant.

The Golden Deer seemed mixed, and more human in that way. Byleth wondered often, shamefully and secretly, if she had chosen the correct class. She resolved herself to get to know her students better, rather than write them off as shallow depictions of sin. Surely there was goodness in each, she just had to find it and make it stronger.

***

There was a fireplace in the homeroom, and it was a lovely spot to read and work. Hubert liked to get up early and drink his coffee there while catching up on assignments he never put enough time into. His focus was consumed by duties to the empire, and homework seemed pointless in comparison. Byleth started failing him left and right. He tried to threaten her, and his grades got worse. He got detentions. Edelgard warned him not to draw this much attention to himself. So he cracked down and dedicated himself to being a full time revolutionary and full time student. It was exhausting.

Hubert had a headache for as long as he could remember. It started when he was young and never went away. This was merely a dull constant pain around the front of his face that he came to quietly ignore while wearing a constant frown. Now however he was too stressed to ignore it and his days blurred into one continuous stream. Some mornings he got up very early to come finish his work in his favorite spot, other times he woke up there with all his work from the night before spread around him.

Hubert was never easy on the eyes, but school made him look downright ghastly. People were not shy about letting him know this. Dorothea offered under-eye creams. Hilda, without permission, tried a hair clip to keep his bangs out of his face. When she saw his right eye she quietly let the bangs fall back without a word. Hubert got extra mean to keep people away. He did not wish for them to want to help him, and he could not afford letting anyone get too close.

***

The door to the homeroom creaked ominously as she entered. Bernadetta froze at the sighting of the ghoulish creature barely illuminated by the embers fading in the fireplace. Oh no, Bernie, this was it. Ghosts weren’t real, but fuck vampires might be! Luckily nothing swooped at her to suck out her blood.

She opened one eye, she opened the other. It was Hubert, sleeping and not even standing up or hanging from the rafters like a bat. He was curled up in an armchair with his reason book resting on his chest. He was still scary when he slept, but somehow not as much.

Bernadetta liked this spot too, it was good for doing embroidery by the fire on nights when she couldn’t sleep. She however was not going to fight Hubert for it because she would surely lose. He was big, strong, and always pissed off. She lurked over him with her embroidery, and challenged herself to look at his face. With his eyes closed and his mouth slack with a tiny dribble of drool dripping out he was not mortally terrifying. She couldn’t help herself as she giggled at his vulnerable appearance. Maybe Hubert wasn’t as scary as she thought. He shifted a bit with a sleepy groan and she yelped, nope, still definitely scary!

He was shivering because his book made for a poor blanket. Oh no, if he froze to death and Bernie did nothing to stop it Edelgard would completely kill her. Bernadetta sighed and grabbed the knit blanket Byleth kept under her desk for when it got too cold in the drafty classroom. Bernadetta put the blanket over him and scampered away as quickly as she could. She did not realize she had left some of her embroidery project on the coffee table.

***

Stress dreams were weird. Hubert had been consumed by visions of an assassin come to kill him by stabbing him infinitely with a needle. Hubert woke up only when Byleth came into the room to start the fire up to get the room nice and warm for class, and gently asked Hubert if he was enjoying her blanket.

Hubert looked at the cozy knit blanket in confusion, “I didn’t uh, I do not recall taking this.”

“Hubert, are you well? I’ve noticed you sleep here more than in your room,”

“I’m trying not to sleep at all,” muttered Hubert as he looked at his latest incomplete homework assignment.

Byelth sat in the opposing arm chair and pursed her lips. “Are you having trouble completing your work?”

The answer was yes. Hubert was drowning in work, the only problem was most of it wasn’t school work. He cleared his throat as he straightened his posture, “I have some official duties I attend to while I am here. I fear I have not yet figured out how to balance school and work.”

Byleth nodded and leaned back, “You have already trained with swords, correct?”

“A rapier, for duels,” said Hubert. That was the first weapon he’d been trained with. While growing up in the Imperial Palace all the vassals wore stupid ceremonial blades at their hips. It was part of his school uniform even now. The idea was that they might have to defend their liege’s honor at any moment. The vassals were warned never to draw their swords inside the palace, but when a bunch of immature kids were handed real blades and trained to duel there was a lot of accidental bloodshed. The young vassals all hurried to train each other on healing spells to cover up their play.

Byleth nodded some more, “And I know you came here with some skills in dark magic.”

Hubert swallowed back the memories of learning Miasma and Mire at home and the painful lessons that had come along with that. A rapier was for showing off and appearances, but magic, that was reserved for life and death. A rapier cut healed well under white magic. A dark magic injury hurt a hell of a lot more and laughed at attempts to soothe it with a healing spell. “I could take and pass the exams for C level reason, I think.”

“Alright then,” said Byleth as she glanced at his homework. “I would like to change your focus. I’d like to shift you to lances and horses.”

Hubert frowned, “And why would I do that?”

“Dark knight class certification, that is going to be your goal for graduation,” said Byleth. “You seem to have magic down pat, and you could probably make a passable mortal savant. However, I think that the reason homework I’ve been assigning is too time consuming. You’ll log hours riding and in stable duty, you’ll go to the training grounds and work with your lance, that way you only have a set number of hours of work a week, no more all nighters.”

“I don’t know anything about horses or lances,” murmured Hubert feeling despondent. He liked reason, he was good at it. The sheer volume of homework was awful but at least it was familiar. He was tall but really lacked the build of a cavalier in his opinion.

“Oh, well, then this week I’m assigning you to stable duties with Ferdinand,” said Byleth as if that were the best idea ever. Hubert didn’t even bother to try hide his scowl.

Byleth picked up an abandoned needle and thread, “I believe this lost item belongs to Bernadetta, how about after you’ve gone to the sauna and had breakfast you try to return this to her for me?”

Hubert accepted the item with extreme reluctance, “Bernadetta is afraid of me, you’ve seen her during church. She hates that you sat us together. I don’t think she’ll appreciate this.”

Byleth stood up and smiled. She didn’t have a toothy smile, or a fake one, just a small one with tightly closed lips, “School shouldn’t be about doing the same comfortable thing over and over again. It’s about being challenged and overcoming your fears.”

Hubert studied the lost item and wondered vaguely if his needle-armed assassin nightmare might have been inspired by another nocturnal Black Eagle.

***

Bernadetta felt an unseasonable chill settle behind her as she rushed to get to class. _Whoa, why is is it so cold, it’s as if an unspeakable evil just,_ Bernadetta’s thoughts turned to screaming as she spun and saw Hubert. She was so afraid she didn’t really process that it was him and not a specter of death.

“You’re late,” he said as he looked at the homeroom where class already begun.

She cowered, “No, into the light, go back to the beyond from whence you came!”

Hubert furrowed his brow, “Are you, are you telling me to go die?”

At that, Bernadetta realized her mistake, “Ah, oh, Hubert!”

“Indeed, in the flesh,” said Hubert dryly. “I came to ask you something.”

“Oh, no! What did I do?” Bernadetta panicked — maybe someone had noticed she was stealing paints from the craft room or plants from the greenhouse for her window — she trembled, _think Bernie, think!_

Hubert looked too amused for her liking, “There have been sightings of a sinister figure, carrying a sharp object, wandering the halls at night.

 _Um, yes that would be the death knight_ , thought Bernadetta desperately.

“A strange giggle, the glimmer of a needle in the dark, the sounds of a door creaking open and closed,” Hubert drawled on with his deep, creepy voice. He handed her a familiar needle and thread.

Bernadetta relaxed, “Oh! Uh, yes, I was embroidering.”

“I suspected as much,” said Hubert as he stared down at her. His mouth twitched up into a sneer, “Then you leave me no choice.”

What! She was too young to die! She still had stuff she wanted to do, “Please don’t kill me!” Bernadetta bolted.

***

Hubert popped his head into the homeroom and looked at Byleth, who had heard the whole thing, “Do I just let her go—”

“No, you should go get her,” said Byleth.

“But I’m missing class,” tried Hubert as a weak attempt to get out of this.

“You’re going to miss Caspar giving a book report,” sighed Byleth. It was a nice way of saying he was missing nothing of note. “Consider this training.”

Hubert grunted with discontent as he walked in the direction Bernadetta had run in. He found her taking a breather by the cemetery, “That was quite a sprint, a shame you lack stamina. Now, to my duty.”

She looked at the graves down below them and back to his face with utter terror, “You’re going to execute me, aren’t you! Please, at least let me compose my last will and testament.”

Surely she was a comedian, and so Hubert leaned harder into his unamused executioner act and gravely shook his head no. Bernadetta clutched her hands together over her heart, “A swan song at least! The creak of a door, sorrow like a needlepoint, and Bernie’s no more!”

The improvised song made him laugh, but this was growing into a waste of time, “Bernadetta, a word of caution. How would you feel if you fell or bumped into someone while carrying around that needle? Please watch were you’re going in the future, especially if you’re moving around in the dark.”

She said nothing. She was staring blankly and straight ahead. Hubert waved his hand in front of her face. No response. He poked her in the shoulder, no response. _Holy shit_ , she had fainted while standing up.

Could he just leave her here in the cemetery? It was dead quiet, not a lot going on, maybe he could set her on a bench and go. Hubert looked around and saw the librarian. Tomas creeped Hubert out. People thought he was nice and helpful, but he gave Hubert serious bad vibes, and Hubert couldn’t just leave Bernadetta in this state with such a villain lurking around.

Hubert gently wrapped his arm around Bernadetta’s shoulder. She didn’t shrink away like she did when he sat down next to her at church. She didn’t squeal in terror like she did when he bumped into her accidentally. Hubert took a deep breath and began to lead her away.

They walked to the dorms. Everyone else was in class so no one saw as Hubert hug-walked Bernadetta to her room. He wasn’t used to human contact. The only person who he hugged was his mother, and she was long gone. He kept Edelgard far away and behind a wall of formality because he was in love with her and knew it was hopeless; he needed barriers between them or he’d fall prey to his feelings.

This was different. He wasn’t Bernadetta’s assigned vassal, but she clearly needed protecting. Who fainted standing up? He sighed as he tried her door and found it locked. “I’m sorry for this,” he whispered as he patted her down to find her key. It was in a pocket — damn, girl’s clothing had small pockets — and he carefully fished it free. Her room was a dark mess filled with unknown obstacles. Hubert gingerly picked up Bernadetta and carried her to her bed. She was the perfect size for his arms and he liked the feeling of her face nestled against his chest. This was how he wished he could hold Edelgard, but the princess was tough as nails and would only need him to carry her like this if she was mortally wounded, which he definitely didn’t desire.

Bernadetta was peaceful in this state, not screaming, not cowering. She was downright adorable. Hubert quietly put her key into her hand and crept away to get back to class. He tried to ignore the weird warm feeling inside himself as he thought about holding her so close. He focused instead on stable duty and how he could make Ferdinand as miserable as possible.


	3. The Botanist in the Field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie has gone full bear.

**Horsebow Moon, 1186**

Hubert left Enbarr in a little bit of a rush. He hastily removed the weak threat of blackmail from Ferdinand and encouraged him to think about the things they’d discussed. He told Edelgard to sit tight and promised to devote all his attention to wedding planning upon his return. Right now he was too distracted to think about silverware and appetizers. He needed to find out what was going on, Bernadetta could be in serious trouble.

He didn’t make for much of a white knight, he was a certified dark knight and a rather sinister looking one at that. He swapped his boring minister clothing for his tried and true imperial officer uniform and readied his horse. He set out on the road towards the Varley territory to get to the bottom of this mystery. The Varleys lived quite close to Garreg Mach nestled in the Oghma Mountains. They were in the shadow of the former seat of Seiros, and reminders of this legacy still dotted the landscape in the form of old churches. People still worshiped the goddess, but Seiros was defeated, and a new Archbishop ruled in her place.

***

The rain was really coming down today, mused Bernadetta from the dry safety of her tree house. It was far enough away from her parents that she didn’t have to see them all the time, but close enough that she wasn’t going to run into a demonic beast or bandits while she was out cataloging every plant and bug she came across. Rainy days were poor for field work. For such weather Bernadetta had her crochet to entertain herself. She had notes to take on various plants she’d collected. She had flowers to carefully press. She had her watercolors to record the beautiful scenes around her.

Really, who needed to go home when one’s nasty father was under house arrest? Bernadetta was greatly enjoying her spring and summer exploration of the forest. However it was getting quite chilly at night and Bernadetta was uncomfortably aware that she wasn’t going to be able to camp out and avoid her problems forever. Maybe she could visit Petra for the winter. She had received Hubert and Dorothea’s postcard and been a little jealous of the vacation they were having. She was mostly jealous of the fun they were surely having together. Bernadetta had cried a tiny bit to her mother about it, who comforted her and said that sometimes a vacation with a friend is just a vacation and nothing more. Her father had scoffed and said commoners with a reputation like Dorothea’s didn’t go on innocent trips with a man, especially not one like that gross young Vestra (who had put him under house arrest in the first place).

Bernadetta still thought often to when she had given Hubert the embroidered flower she made him. He had teased her and called it a romantic gesture. Had he thought that was true? Did she? Bernadetta just wanted to be able to look at him without being possessed with terror. Perhaps if she could have managed to keep a straight face around him, it would be her going on vacation with Hubert to Brigid and not Dorothea. Bernadetta sighed, there was no use speculating about what could have been. It had been nice having someone so interested in her, but life was simpler alone.

Dating Caspar hadn’t worked out. He was energetic, fun, and completely overwhelming. Linhardt was far too critical and consumed with his own interests. Flirting with Ferdinand over tea had gotten her only more enamored while he seemed blissfully unaware of her feelings. As for Hubert, she'd done an accidentally wonderful job at driving him away into the arms of another. There were the rumored trysts with Shamir during the war, vacations with Dorothea, and of course his passionate devotion to Edelgard. Berndetta sniffled and hung her head; he had a type and she didn’t fit it. He clearly liked fearless brave women (with large breasts) and that wasn’t Bernie. She was going to die a virgin, she just knew it.

Bernadetta decided she was much better suited to the hermit life. Maybe she ought to go home and demand access to a property in their holdings rather than just contenting herself with this primitive tree house. She did miss regularly bathing and having access to all her crafts. She didn’t enjoy raccoons stealing the pastries her mother secretly sent her. However she did enjoy exploring and getting her hands dirty. She liked her brown canvas pants with all their pockets for storing little things, and she liked her lavender colored linen shirt that helped keep her not so sweaty. She loved that her hair was a little messy again because there was no one to impress in the woods, and she liked that she kept tied back in a scarf. She looked completely and totally unmarriageable and no one was around to comment. She felt like herself and that was the nicest part.

She could live alone. She knew how to cook, she knew all about plants. She could learn the rest. Bernadetta comforted herself with that daydream as the rains came down.

***

Countess Varley had sided with Edelgard in the war, and allowed imperial guards into her home so her husband could be kept under a rather unpleasant house arrest. She seemed to enjoy his current predicament as well as the fact that he couldn’t abuse her with all these soldiers about. However, he wasn’t executed because apparently there weren’t legal grounds for it. Hubert quietly wished he had some poison on him now as he took tea with Bernadetta’s parents.

“Bernadetta has always had a fascination with plants,” explained the Countess. “She expressed an interest in cataloging the species in our territory and went on her way.”

“Ridiculous,” muttered the former Count von Varley.

“Have you been in communication with her?” asked Hubert, ignoring Bernadetta’s father.

“She sends notes when she stops into whatever village she is most near,” said the Countess uneasily. The Countess had always been true for the Emperor, and so Hubert was very distracted by the way she was clearly lying to his face now.

“An unaccompanied, unmarried woman,” grumbled Bernadetta’s father. “Unacceptable.”

“Have you been forwarding her mail?” asked Hubert as he attempted to focus on Bernadetta’s mother and not the itching patricide he knew he was capable of.

“We don’t really have any idea where she’ll end up or when,” said Bernadetta’s mother. “But she said she would return home in the fall, so we expect she should be home, within the next two months.”

Two months! This was the harvest! It was fall, where was Bernadetta really? The forests around the Varley territory were enormous. Bernadetta could be anywhere. Hubert’s heart sank. “Will you at least let me know the last place she reported in from?”

Ex-count von Varley scoffed, “And let you go find my daughter alone in the woods, I think not.”

“Her presence is required in Enbarr,” said Hubert coolly. He hoped they wouldn’t press him on the details. Saying it like that sounded much more important than _Edelgard is suffering decision paralysis about wedding favors and I need help_.

“Yes, to consult on the Emperor’s wedding dress, how essential our silly daughter must be,” hissed von Varley.

“Have you been reading her mail?” Hubert felt a jolt go through him. Those letters were meant for Bernadetta’s eyes, not her father’s. He had gotten a little personal with that second letter and he was horrified that her gross father had read it. All he had to do was run outside and find some hemlock, wisteria, or foxglove and this von Varley was yesterday’s news.

The Countess glared at her husband before looking back at Hubert with concern, “We only opened Bernadetta’s correspondence when we saw the volume of letters you were sending.”

“It was three notes, about an urgent matter,” said Hubert defensively. This was too much, time was of the essence in these sorts of cases. He wanted to find Bernadetta but he didn’t want to find her in a trunk in the attic or in a shallow grave near the stables. What had these fiends done to her? “This conversation has been a waste of my time,” he snapped as he rose. “I will get to the bottom of this, and pray that I don’t uncover something damning about you when I do.”

“Let me see you off,” said the Countess pleasantly as the ex-Count rolled his eyes.

“That will not be necessary,” Hubert assured her gruffly. He wanted nothing to do with these awful liars.

“I insist,” said the Countess as she pulled him towards the door. Hubert huffed as he got to his horse. Countess von Varley looked over her shoulder and then grabbed Hubert by the jacket to pull his face close, “Bernadetta is in the woods, not far from here. I promised her I would not tell her father that she’s still on the property because he would surely find a way to come harass her.” The Countess pointed towards the woods, “Follow the trail and eventually you’ll get to a tree house, she should be there.”

Hubert pulled back and nodded, “Thank you.” Finally! This was a huge relief. Hubert left his horse hitched and practically ran to the woods, it was almost dark.

***

In the field, Bernadetta rose and set with the sun for the most part. She tucked into her sleeping back and sighed, she was going to have to go home soon. _Noooo_. At least she could enjoy one more night with the crickets for company and the beautiful sounds of nature all around her.

One sound though was not of nature. There was a person nearby in her forested sanctuary. Oh Bernie, what should you do! Bernadetta stayed very still and made no noise. The person was getting closer and they were quite grumbly. They cursed as she heard branches snapping. Oh nooo they were at the base of her tree house. The ladder creaked and groaned under the mystery murderer’s weight.

Bernadetta was super quick to get her frying pan. Someone wanted to come kill her in the night? Not if Bernie killed them first! As soon as the frightful face of doom popped up through the entrance to her safe haven Bernadetta let out a mighty yell and struck.

Her would be kidnapper let a surprised cry as he fell from the tree house and to the ground below with a painful sounding crash. Bernadetta quickly struck a match and lit up her lantern so she could properly see the creep. All she saw was one Hubert von Vestra sprawled out on the forest floor looking extremely dead.

At the thought of what Edelgard was going to do to her when she found out how Hubert was murdered, Bernadetta passed out and fell through the hatch to the ground below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they both died...the end...just kidding we're just getting started.


	4. A lesson in cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta and Hubert's C+ support told through a meal

**1180, Garreg Mach**

Sneaking was second nature to her at this point. Paths in the darkness had grown into mental maps as Bernadetta crept around the monastery. Ghosts, no matter what Lysithea believed, were not real. Besides, Bernadetta was far more afraid of living people than dead ones. Dead people couldn’t drag you around by your hair. Dead people couldn’t destroy you with words. Dead people couldn’t soil you and make you worthless.

She preferred the quiet. She preferred the dark. She had learned how to hide as a child. Be very still, make the room look unoccupied, then he’ll move on to check the next place. Never hide in the attic. Only choose safe rooms. Unfortunately, the person looking at her right now was much better at sensing out those hiding in the shadows than her father ever was.

“I know someone is there,” said Hubert with a biting annoyance to his words. Swirls of purple were beginning to dance in his hands.

Her growling stomach was the traitor. If not for its betrayal of her position, Hubert would have kept on walking. “If you do not reveal yourself voluntarily I will be forced to draw you out and I promise my methods are not pleasant.”

Bernadetta yelped despite herself. Hubert lowered his hands, “Bernadetta?” He didn’t need to ask, he had heard her screaming and eeking so many times of course he knew her sounds. Hubert sighed as his hands dropped from their casting position.

Caught, she came forward with her eyes downcast. Hubert’s voice attempted a gentle tone, and failed, “What are you doing out so late?”

Bernadetta tried to speak and found her words did not want to come out. She was super embarrassed she had fainted in front of him, and knew that he must have been the one to take her back to her room. Her room was a mess, but it was her private mess! She didn’t want him seeing inside it. Besides, men were _not_ allowed in her room. Ugh, Bernie, this was a disaster. Maybe if she just kept quiet he would leave her alone!

Hubert was by and large the scariest person in their house, if not the whole class. Maybe at the whole school. “Are you also going to the dining hall?”

Bernadetta managed to nod. Hubert gestured for her to go, but she didn’t dare take the lead. She could see she was testing his patience as he looked at her and shook his head. He walked ahead and she meekly trailed behind him. It was easier to look at the back of him than the front. He made her feel so short, so small. She screamed on the battlefield, not like bravely like Caspar, but out of total fear of dying. Hubert laughed on the battlefield like some sort of psycho! He did all his homework even though he had to stay up very late to do it, while Bernadetta sometimes couldn’t even bring herself to go to class. She was sure he hated her.

Being in the officer’s academy came with certain privileges, including access to some spaces of the monastery at any time of day. Those privileges could be restricted, as Ashe and Mercedes had learned when their cooking resulted in a spicy cloud of destruction, but as long as one left the place in a good state and didn’t get greedy they could use the kitchens whenever. Most people cooked special meals with the professor, or made delicious sweets for their friends. Bernadetta used this precious privilege to avoid people.

Hubert unlocked the door, and lit up the kitchen candles with his magic. Bernadetta was already raiding the pantry, hoping to find bread or something, anything, to sate herself so she could run away. Hubert’s question made her jump in her skin, “Do you know what you want to make?”

She looked up at Hubert and the cast iron skillet in his hands. He could make anything look like a weapon, even a frying pan! She shook her head.

“Would you like to cook together?”

Bernadetta liked cooking, well, really she had come to love it as she was forced to learn to fend for herself in this new strange place. She shook her head no and Hubert sighed as he turned to prep the oven by himself. He removed his gloves and tucked them safely into a pocket.

His patience was always thin, transparent even. He yelled at Caspar, Linhardt, and Ferdinand without a second thought or any sign of regret. However he had never yelled at Bernadetta. Laughed menacingly? Till she was weak in the knees. Grinned like the face of death itself? All the time. Teased her till she fainted? Unfortunately. Yet yelling and being truly mad at her had never happened, not yet anyway. Bernadetta feared it was only a matter of time. He was like a bomb and Bernadetta knew she was going to set him off.

“Do you normally creep around in the dark?” Hubert continued to carry on the conversation despite her silence.

Bernadetta cleared her throat and Hubert waited for her response, but none would come out. He added a thin layer of oil to the pan. His knife work was fast and sure as he diced up potatoes and onions. Bernadetta wondered if he cut through people so fast.

The potatoes went into a pot to boil, and the onions were added to the pan. Hubert pushed them around in silence as a wonderful smell filled the kitchen. Gosh was this how he poisoned people, by disguising any foul tells with savory smells? A true villain for sure. However, it could smell just a little bit better in here.

Bernadetta pushed a peeled clove of garlic his way. Hubert looked up and silently agreed with her selection as he smashed it with his knife held flat against the cutting board. He tossed it in with the onions and Bernadetta found her mouth watering. She rummaged through the baskets of produce and found a big bell pepper. She held it up and Hubert nodded with approval at her selection.

Bernadetta rinsed off the pepper, and Hubert diced. She held up her hand as he went to add the chunks to the pan, “W-Wait!”

He looked at her in surprise that she had finally spoken. Bernadetta swallowed and kept her eye on the pan as she gently pushed the onions around, “The peppers should go in later. They’ll get too mushy if we add them now!”

Hubert said nothing as he grabbed a fork to test the potatoes. They proved too tough. He was impatient with the potatoes. He glared at them but they continued to cook at the same slow pace.

Bernadetta pulled the onions, now lightly browned, and added them to a bowl with the peppers. Hubert looked back at her and she squeaked as she wondered if she’d messed up his recipe. She supposed she didn’t really know what he was cooking in the first place, this all just seemed to go well together. He said nothing but cut a pat of butter for the pan.

The potatoes were finally cooked to Hubert’s satisfaction. He took a big slotted spoon and drained the cubes. He added them to the browning butter, which hissed and popped in protest. He let them sit to get crispy. He was now patient with the potatoes.

Bernadetta wandered to find some cheese. She began to grate it and when it looked like enough, she grated just a little bit more. Hubert was generous with his use of salt and pepper. The potatoes began to brown, so Hubert added back the rest of the ingredients. Bernadetta dumped on the cheese.

Hubert slowly cast a fire spell, just a small one, from above to broil the cheese. Bernadetta held up her bowl and Hubert smirked at her as he doled out her portion. She shied away from his evil grin and Hubert’s face faded back to neutrality.

“Do you like cooking?” tried Hubert.

Bernadetta nodded. In her head, she saw her father’s idealized vision herself smiling politely, “ _Why yes Lord von Vestra, I would so enjoy cooking for you if you were my husband_.” Those words wouldn’t come out of her, not willingly. Her father wasn’t around to make her say shit like that at school. He just lived in her head here.

“I had to learn to cook when I started missing dinner in favor of other work,” shrugged Hubert, even though she did not ask him anything at all. “Anyway, I like food more when I know it’s not poisoned.”

Bernadetta involuntarily dropped her fork in startled surprise. Hubert stared at his bowl, “A joke, not a very tasteful one I’m afraid.”

Bernadetta was reminded of her uncle and his awful puns. Her voice was small, “Unpalatable really.”

Hubert scoffed at her joke, and continued to eat, “Good thing no one is around, we sound like Alois. I have a reputation to maintain, I can’t have people knowing I enjoy puns. I trust I will have your silence?” He teased her with a menacing glance that made her blood run cold.

She shivered and wondered why he was here in the first place. Probably something to do with his ‘reputation’. It was none of her business why he was not at dinner with the others. She understood her reason, she wanted to be alone, but Hubert was mysterious and private.

Bernadetta finished her very late dinner, or very early breakfast, and began to clean up. She washed the dishes while Hubert dried them and returned everything to the proper place. His gloves were still off; she stared at his hands with a morbid fascination and wondered how many people they had killed. It could be many, it could be very few, it was very difficult to tell with Hubert what was real about him and what was her assumption.

“Um Hubert,” she whispered as they closed up the kitchens. If she kept her eyes firmly fixed on the floor she knew she could get through this. If he was going to kill her he wouldn’t have made her dinner right? Maybe he wasn’t going to hurt her! Maybe she could just sneak some peeks of his face.

“Yes?”

“I just um, I wanted to thank you for the other day. You know, when I fainted, thank you for carrying me back to my room.”

“That was nothing,” promised Hubert. “It saved me effort in the long run, it would have brought more trouble just to leave you.”

“I guess that’s true, well, thanks,” she said quickly. She balled her hand into a fist for courage, “There, I said it, and n-now I’m going.”

“Thank you for eating with me,” said Hubert quietly. “I honestly thought you were going to flee with some scraps the first chance you got. It seems you avoid me at almost any cost.”

She tried to protest even though it was true. A sad smile flashed across Hubert’s face, “You don’t need to say it. I know. I’m frightening. I’m told so often.”

He started to chuckle and Bernadetta squeezed her eyes shut in fear because his laugh was breaking her resolve to be brave, “Ah! Please, please don’t laugh like that!”

Hubert stopped immediately, “My apologies. I will be mindful not to laugh in your presence from now on.” He wasn’t laughing but he was still grinning at her. It was the same awful excuse for a smile she saw so often on the battlefield when he was striking down an enemy.

“Ah! The grin of death itself,” she whispered fervently. “T-terrifying!”

Hubert’s face grew incredibly somber, “You think so?”

Bernadetta fixed her eyes back upon the ground, “Oh no, now you’re angry too—” Well, it hadn’t been a great life while it lasted, but it had been hers so she was pretty attached to it. Oh well Bernie, you had your run, prepare to die!

“Hardly,” he said dryly. “I’m sorry to have frightened you.” His laugh was gone, his grin was muzzled, and Hubert had set his face in a passive frown. Unfortunately his resting face managed to be just as scary as the rest of him!

Later, Bernadetta barely recalled whatever she’d screamed at him before running away. Safe in her room, she cried. She cried because things had been going nicely, she cried because she had ruined them. She cried because Hubert scared her. She cried the most because she knew he was trying not to, but it wasn’t working because Bernie didn’t feel very brave. She felt like a fraud at this school with all these courageous people.

Her father called her worthless because he couldn’t get anyone to pay to marry her. She had a crest, she was an heiress, everything was perfect on paper, it was her that was the problem. Here at school it was even worse. No one would call her worthless, which almost felt more cruel because clearly she was the worst student at Garreg Mach! She was downright bad on paper as a soldier — no stamina, short, afraid of everything — and yet everyone supported her. That was the worst because she knew deep down she was going to end up failing them, even if they didn’t know it yet.


	5. Sins of their Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief push back in time for snippets of what it means to grow up a Vestra, an Aegir, and a Varley  
> ////  
> Just as a general content warning, there are depictions of child abuse in this chapter and implications of spousal abuse. I have updated the warnings on the fic to reflect this.

**Growing up Vestra**

**1160**

_Please be a girl, please be a girl,_ thought Lady von Vestra as she waited on the impending birth of her first child. She was learning all about her new husband’s job as the Minister of Imperial Affairs, and it frightened her deeply. She was nervous for her child, and knew that while a girl’s life was unenviable, at least a girl got to leave. A son would have to stay and hold up the family’s traditions and she was finding out they were unpleasant to say the least.

Her son arrived with the new year. He looked completely ordinary. Lady von Vestra looked at him and sighed, “Your name means bright heart, because you will surely need it in this family.” On the surface the von Vestras were powerful, honorable, and fair; behind closed doors they did many dark things to keep that image pristine because people would be horrified by the truth. Lady von Vestra was horrified, but in the von Vestra family squeaky wheels did not get oil, they got replaced.

Her son was a rather happy baby that laughed a lot. Lady von Vestra didn’t want to say it was an evil sounding laugh, who could call a baby’s laugh evil? “So unique,” she purred instead at her pleasant little son. “But what’s so funny?”

He said nothing, he was a baby. She prayed he’d keep his sense of humor as he grew.

**1165**

Hanneman looked kind and he was a friend of the family. His device, however, looked scary. Hubert cowered behind his father’s legs as the Marquis tried to usher his small son towards the crest analyzer.

Hanneman adjusted his monocle and gave Hubert a kind smile, “It won’t hurt I promise! I made this specially for kids, so that we don’t have to draw any blood or try to activate a crest.” Who said anything about drawing blood? Hubert was definitely not going over there now.

“Hubert, today please,” sighed his father as he nudged his son along.

“What if I don’t have one?” Hubert was still clutching his father’s pant leg and staring apprehensively at the analyzer.

“It will be fine I promise,” said his father as he plucked Hubert up and brought him to the machine. Hubert’s arm went under the viewer and Hubert squeezed his eyes shut as he waited. Silence.

“No crest,” confirmed the Marquis with a sigh. He didn’t seem disappointed, rather it sounded like he expected as much. He pulled Hubert away from the analyzer and set his feet back on the ground.

Hubert looked up at his father and tried to be brave, “What happens now?”

The Marquis patted Hubert’s head, “It’s fine Hubert. This just means that you won’t be a Minister like me, but don’t worry. You will become a vassal for one of the Imperial children. Someday, you’ll even get a commission in the army like your uncle.”

Hubert liked the sound of that, his uncle was very brave and looked super impressive in his imperial uniform. Hubert wanted to look like that some day, much better than his father’s boring Minister attire! His father worked a lot and did paperwork all the time while Hubert’s uncle got a cool sword and always told the best stories about the fun places he got to travel to and the demonic beasts he had to put down. Maybe not having a crest wasn’t as bad as fairy tales made it seem.

Hanneman smiled as he packed up the crest analyzer, “A commission in the army, how exciting! Maybe you’ll even get to come to the Officer’s Academy at Garreg Mach and I will be your professor.” Hubert nodded happily at the idea. In his room in front of his mirror he would practice standing at attention and saluting like his uncle. He didn’t know it then, but in about ten years his brave uncle would be killed by a soldier from Dagda in a terrible battle.

**1166**

His limited training had not prepared him for this. All of Ionius’ sons were older and they already had vassals. Little Princess Edelgard needed _someone_ , and Hubert was available. He looked up at his father with doubt, “She’s a girl.” Not just that, she was two whole years younger than him and had pigtails!

“I know son,” whispered his father, not bothering to hide how disgruntled this appointment made him. “But because she’s a girl she’s going to need someone big and strong to protect her, to guide her. That will be your job, you will keep her safe.” That made sense; girls were supposed to be shy and quiet and do boring stuff like sew all day. Of course they needed a good man to protect them.

“Have fun playing dolls,” snickered an older vassal who had gotten assigned to the youngest prince. Hubert groaned at the thought.

Luckily for Hubert, Princess Edelgard really didn’t seem to like ‘girl’ things all that much. She wanted to play demonic beasts more than dolls and Hubert was happy to facilitate that.

“I’m not being too scary right?” asked Hubert after he had let out maybe a bit too sinister of a laugh. He couldn’t help it, that was just how he sounded.

Edelgard had looked frightened but she was nodding enthusiastically, “No Hubert, don’t stop! You make a great demonic beast!”

Hubert did a rather clumsy job at first being her protector, but he got better. His mother quietly taught him how to do basic white magic so that the next time the princess tripped and fell he could take care of her scrapes and not get in trouble. This was a good thing to know as Edelgard was rather rough and tumble. When her older brothers and their dumb vassals made a fort and wouldn’t let her in, well, Edelgard and Hubert laid siege to those fools. When they had captured it Edelgard declared herself Emperor.

“Girls can’t be Emperor,” yelled one of her dumb brothers.

“Oh yeah? Well maybe I’ll be the first,” proclaimed Edelgard before sticking out her tongue. It was extremely unlikely she’d come anywhere close to the throne as the eighth youngest child and a girl besides. Inside, Hubert hoped she would become Emperor and that he would still be by her side when it happened.

**1167**

Hubert sat by his brother’s crib. “You have a crest,” Hubert informed his brother happily. “That means you have to be minister and I get to be in the army.” It was a sure thing now, his poor brother had to be heir and do all the boring Vestra traditions while Hubert was going to get to run around killing off bad guys and protecting Adrestia.

His brother cried, probably not at those words but because he was a toddler. Hubert quickly tried to soothe his fears, “Don’t worry, I’m sure being minister isn’t that bad! And I’ll always be around to keep you safe. I’ll be really good at it too because I’m going to be a soldier and that’s what they do, they protect people.” So what if he didn’t have a crest, he got to be a princess’ bodyguard and that was pretty impressive. He pantomimed having a sword and fighting off invisible foes.

**1169**

Hubert’s rapier was very cool. He pretended to slash away enemies coming to kidnap Edelgard as they ran around playing princess and rescuer. Edelgard sometimes made him be the princess but Hubert didn’t care because she always made it very fun. The rapier was not as cool when Randolph Bergliez, an older vassal, challenged him to a real duel and didn’t really give him the option to refuse. Randolph boasted they would fight to the death.

Hubert was still learning how to hold his sword, and Randolph was taking things too far because he was 13, and 13 year olds tended to be assholes whether they meant it or not. Hubert got scared when Randolph kicked him to the ground and held the sharp tip of his rapier to Hubert’s skinny exposed neck. “Now I’m going to stick you Vestra,” laughed Randolph, gloating about his win. “Any last words?”

In a panic, Hubert used Miasma. Luckily he missed Randolph, who probably would have gotten really hurt had Hubert's aim been accurate. Unluckily, he broke a really ancient looking vase and ended up setting a tapestry on fire. Hubert didn’t know the word fuck, but he sure knew the feeling when he was finally brought to his father.

“You used magic in the palace,” said his father quietly with rage.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Hubert as he stared at the ground. He had already been beaten by the guard who delivered him to his parents. He could only guess how his father was going to punish him for this.

“You could have killed someone,” whispered the Marquis. “You could have killed Randolph, or worse you could have killed the princess or the prince. You could have killed yourself.”

Hubert shook as he tried not cry. It had been a big mistake. The Marquis’ voice was made of ice, “Dark magic is very dangerous Hubert. I teach you these spells so that you can protect the princess, so that you can protect yourself, not so you can play and destroy things. This is serious.”

“I know,” whispered Hubert. His tears were silent as they streamed down his face. This was the worst thing he’d ever done in his life.

“Do you know? I do not think you understand. You cannot understand dark magic unless you feel it yourself.” Without warning his father cast at him, straight at the side of his face.

Hubert had been hit before. Little slaps from his mother when he ran his mouth too much and said something unkind, a strike of a rod here and there when he misbehaved during his lessons with the tutors, and the occasional whipping from his father when he was particularly bad. This, this was different. This was a pain that settled in his bones, this was a pain that felt like it was eating at his soul.

“Are you insane, you could have blinded him,” shouted his mother as she pulled Hubert into her arms and wrapped herself around her son.

“He needs to learn how it feels, he needs to understand the danger,” snapped the Marquis venomously. He glared at his son, “Now do you understand the power of dark magic?”

“Yes,” sobbed Hubert as he held his right eye. It seared and throbbed with a pain that felt like it would never fade.

His mother carried him away from his father and into the safety of her bedroom. She was shaking as she tried to heal the broken skin but dark magic wounds resisted healing. Hubert sobbed and shook as her magic unintentionally stung him as she tried to make the mark go away. In the end, she settled on just getting the wound closed. The skin on the outer edge of his right eye and onto his temple was now ridged and red, but his mother promised him she’d keep working on it to make it as unnoticeable as possible.

She rocked him in her arms as she smoothed his hair down and gave him gentle words of reassurance. She couldn’t make the marks disappear with magic, so instead she started to do his hair in such a way that his bangs might help to obscure the scarring a little, “See Hubert, no one can see it now. No one will ask you about it. And if they do, you don’t have to tell anyone the truth.”

He let people come up with their own stories. Some were dumb, some were hurtful, but no one every suggested it was his own father who could do such a terrible thing to a little boy. Hubert silently promised his little brother that he wouldn’t let their father do anything like that to him. He wasn’t going to let his father hurt anyone like this ever again. He hated his father.

**1170**

A bad flu struck Enbarr. Everyone in the Vestra household got sick, but not everyone got better. His brother and mother were buried together. His father became very serious about training Hubert to be his successor now that his intended heir was dead. Things were tense in the capital, there were rumors of a civil war threatening to break out. Hubert trained harder with his sword and with his magic so that he could protect Edelgard if it came to that. He couldn’t stop the flu, but he could sure as hell stop a person if he was strong enough. People whispered that he’d gotten his scar protecting the princess and Hubert let them believe it. He wanted to look dangerous, he didn’t want anyone messing with him or Edelgard.

* * *

**Growing up Aegir**

**1162**

The Prime Minister’s wife was very relieved to have given her husband a son. Thank the goddess she was not like her mother and only capable of having girls. Now it didn’t matter if all the rest of her children were daughters if the goddess willed it. She looked proudly at her son and knew if he just played his cards right the world would be his.

The Prime Minister proudly held up his son, “You are Ferdinand von Aegir.” The Prime Minister was already losing his hair, much to his embarrassment, but his son had a wonderful full red head! “Son, when you arrive in Enbarr the ladies better watch out! You’re magnificent!” It was true, he managed to be quite a handsome little baby.

It was apparent early he had a crest, even better! He was going to grow up strong, he would take a wife, he would be Prime Minister, and the von Aegirs would be the pride of Adrestia.

**1169**

Ferdinand stared apprehensively at the little girl he was supposed to marry someday. He looked at his father with doubt, “Are you sure?”

The Prime Minister got flustered by his son’s response, and pushed Ferdinand towards the Varley girl, “Go play. Impress her, you’re a von Aegir! It’ll be easy.”

They had a tea party. Ferdinand took this extremely seriously. Bernadetta clutched her weird doll as he poured her real tea into real porcelain, “My father doesn’t let me have tea in my room. I spilled some one time.” She looked kind of scared by the accidental admission, “I-I shouldn’t have told you that! Please don’t tell anyone.”

“Well don’t worry, I never spill tea,” Ferdinand assured her. He was quite good with a tea pot, the best really. “I even had a tea party with a princess.” His father had been hoping to arrange him with Edelgard but Ionius said no. The Prime Minister assured his son that Ferdinand was much better than Edelgard anyway, so it was for the best he wasn’t marrying her. Instead this little Varley girl was being pushed on him.

Bernadetta stared at him with wide eyes, “A real princess?”

Ferdinand nodded with pride as he recalled his visit to the imperial palace, “Yes, she even had a bodyguard! He had a sword.” Bernadetta’s mouth hung open in shock. Ferdinand gave her a knowing look, “He saved her from being kidnapped, he had a really cool scar.” Ferdinand pointed to his right temple where Hubert had surely been struck by some sinister villain while defending Edelgard. He wouldn’t tell Ferdinand how he got it, but Ferdinand could picture Hubert jumping down from a ledge with his rapier ready, and shouting, _“Unhand her you fiend!”_ When Ferdinand was feeling particularly bold he would imagine Hubert was saving him instead of the princess.

“Being a princess sounds scary,” said Bernadetta as she held her doll —it was seriously spooky — to her chest.

Ferdinand scoffed, “That’s why she has a vassal to protect her!” He wanted his own vassal, he didn’t want a fiancee. He let his father know as much.

**1171**

The Prime Minister took his family to visit Enbarr. Ferdinand felt very special because clearly the von Aegirs were extremely important people. He asked his father if Hubert could be his vassal now that Edelgard was gone. His father apologized but Hubert wasn’t a vassal anymore, he had to train to be a minister now that his brother was dead.

Ferdinand felt sorry about that. Losing a family member sounded terrible. He felt even worse when he learned Hubert didn’t even have a crest. No crest! There were nobles without crests? What a terrible thing to be. No wonder he was so grumpy all the time.

Ferdinand was a perfect noble, with a crest as it should be. He had tea parties down to an expert level. He could ride a horse. He was learning how to use a lance. His mother dressed him up in the finest fashions. He was a good brother and helped to keep his sisters happy and quiet. He was well behaved through long operas when other kids got squirmy in their seats.

He was much better than the other ministers’ sons. Linhardt was always distracted and Caspar was super rambunctious. Hubert was always mad. In comparison Ferdinand was sunny and sweet. Adults often complimented his parents on how mature and nice Ferdinand was, and his heart swelled with pride. His father told him that someday Ferdinand was going to be Prime Minister! That was very exciting. In his room he would pretend his stuffed animals were ministers and he’d tell them all the things he wanted them to do as he ran Adrestia.

**1175**

Ferdinand liked associating with nobles that were more his speed than crazy Caspar, lazy Linhardt, and hateful Hubert. He met one who came to the Aegir territory with his family, lovely Lorenz, and Ferdinand delighted in finally having someone who understood him. They had the best tea parties together. Lorenz liked roses and Ferdinand would pick them just for him. He shared his problem of wanting a vassal instead of a fiancee and Lorenz wholeheartedly agreed. They both wanted someone handsome, good with a horse, and there just for them.

They chased each other in the gardens around the Aegir estate. Lorenz’s family lived near by and had business with the Aegirs often. The boys played tag all the time.

One time, Lorenz caught him and kissed Ferdinand underneath the cover of a big rose bush. They stopped playing tag as much, instead they wrestled under rose bushes and explored each other’s lips. Waiting for Lorenz’s next visit would make Ferdinand tremble with excited anticipation. It wasn’t just about the kissing, though that was really fun, they had so much in common and Ferdinand loved just talking to Lorenz about anything and everything.

They got caught eventually and there were no more visits with Lorenz. Ferdinand’s father was mortified and ashamed of his son.

“You cannot do things like that and be Prime Minister!” warned his Father. “You cannot do things like that and be a von Aegir, do you understand?”

“Yes father,” said Ferdinand in shock. Not be a von Aegir? He couldn’t even imagine such a life, “I, I am sorry I didn’t know what I was doing.” He knew exactly what he was doing. He understood now why he found the idea of dark, brooding Hubert being his vassal so exciting and the idea of sweet, mousy Bernadetta being his wife so boring.

“Did you start this?” demanded the Prime Minster.

“No!” Ferdinand lied, lied to protect himself. “No, I was upset but Lorenz made me do it.” A terrible lie and one his father wanted to believe. “I will never do anything like that again I promise!”

“Good,” said the Prime Minister with relief. “Everything will be fine, you will get married to a nice girl, and never speak of this again. If you do you won’t be able to stay in the family.”

“Of course,” said Ferdinand with as much sunny might as he could muster. He did not speak of it again, even years later when he saw Lorenz for the first time in ages at Garreg Mach. He pretended it had never happened. He kept plenty of distance from his old friend and crush. Lorenz understood and left him alone.

* * *

**Growing up Varley**

**1160**

Count von Varley had two sons. The older one had a crest, and it was certain he would succeed his father. The younger son was bitter about being second born and he took it out on his new wife. She tried to be positive about her lot; she was one of many daughters and she was lucky to have been married into such an important family. Her mother trained her in all the ways that would keep her new husband happy because he had so much to be miserable about — no crest, no claims, jealous feelings towards his brother — and he thought she was fine at her job. He did his duty, and his new wife learned to keep her mouth shut even though inside her head she was glum, _For everyone being so obsessed with sex, it doesn’t feel quite as great as I hoped_. Suggestions for how things might feel better were met with slaps so she pretended she had no opinions, just like her mother.

**1162**

Her husband finally, _finally_ knocked her up much to her relief because it meant now he left her alone. Lady von Varley prayed to the goddess, _Please be a boy, please be a boy_. She felt bad for herself and bad for a potential daughter, for being a woman in Fodlan was a terrible life.

The goddess ignored her, and Lady von Varley quietly directed a middle finger towards Garreg Mach when no one was looking. She bit her lip as she held her precious tiny daughter, “Bernadetta. My brave, hardy little bear cub! You’re going to have to be strong so that you can survive this!”

Her husband was disappointed, but he spun it in a positive direction, “Well I wouldn’t have much inheritance to give a son, maybe this is for the best. She’ll be married off, hopefully to a rich family.” Their daughter already looked like him, which helped him to be a little nicer than he might have been if little Bernie looked just like Lady von Varley.

**1167**

Bernadetta still sucked her thumb even though she was a little too old for that apparently. It was safe to do that around Uncle, he didn’t mind. Father would pull her thumb out of her mouth and give her a flick if he caught her, but Uncle was nice. He didn’t have children of his own, though he and her aunt very much wanted one. They doted on Bernadetta instead and she always loved visiting with them. They brought her presents, they found everything she liked very interesting, and they never, ever yelled.

Uncle was a bit older than Father and would inherit Grandfather’s house and position someday soon. Father complained about this all the time to Mother. Mother never talked back to Father. Bernadetta did not either. That’s how one got yelled at. That’s how one got got their pigtails pulled.

“Can I live with you?” Bernadetta asked her Uncle quietly one visit. “M-maybe mother and I can come live with you instead of father!”

He looked at her with concern, “Bernie, you’d tell me if something bad was happening, right?”

Bernadetta nodded even though it was a lie. Her father warned her about what would happen to her, what would happen to mother, if she ever said anything about the chair or the nasty creatures her father assured her lived in the attic. She sucked her thumb instead of talking.

**1169**

Not again. Bernadetta kicked and screamed with all her might trying to escape, but she was too small. Father tightened his grip on her hair and screamed in her face, “You will behave!” He drug her up the stairs and all the way to the attic. He forced her into the chair and took off his belt to keep her there. This was all because the stupid Aegir boy had cried about not wanting to marry her. Something about creepy dolls…they weren’t creepy! They were just crochet dolls she made to keep herself company because she had no siblings and no friends. She had been good!

“You said something to make him hate you—” hissed father.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” screamed Bernadetta through her tears. “I did everything you said!”

“Clearly not,” said Father with disappointment as he tightened the belt. He wouldn’t hit her where people might see. He couldn’t risk hurting her skin, he couldn’t risk her not being beautiful. So he tied her to the chair instead.

He crouched beside her and stared at her with those hard gray eyes. “You will be silent, no tears,” warned Father. “What do you say?”

“Yes father,” she mumbled.

“Speak clearly Bernadetta, no one can understand you when you mumble like that,” snapped her father as he ripped at her long hair some more.

“Yes father!” yelped Bernadetta clearly.

“Good. Now, remember if you’re not silent the creatures will come get you,” warned Father.

Bernadetta kept her eyes fixed on that spot on the wall she always focused on when she had to play Silence. If she made any noise, her father promised that something terrible that lived in the dark corners of the attic would come and get her. That’s why it was important to listen to him. If she didn’t do exactly as he said, she wouldn’t be safe and bad things would come to kill her. He could only protect her from the bad things if she followed every command and didn’t make noise.

He left her alone in the attic with the things he promised her were there. Downstairs she could hear her mother yelling at her father that this was too much. Mother threatened to leave and take Bernadetta with her. Her father promised he’d hunt them down because they belonged to him, so he would decide where they went and what they said.

Bernadetta heard a sound like a book slamming shut and she didn’t hear her mother yelling anymore. Bernadetta focused on her spot on the wall. She saw that spot when she slept instead of daring to have good dreams.

**1171**

Uncle got very sick, very fast. He had been fine, and then one day when they were visiting he just dropped dead from eating some soup! Bernie was nervous because if you could be healthy and just drop dead like that in the middle of lunch then the world really was as scary as her father promised. Her father was right, anything could kill you!

Father took Uncle’s place. Father signed paperwork that dethroned the Emperor, and their family moved into Grandfather’s old house. It was much bigger than their old house, which meant there were so many new places to hide in. This house was good because apparently the creatures that lived in the attic were left behind in the old house. Bernie was grateful father decided to leave them in the old house.

Now it was people, not creatures, that her father said he was protecting her from. He told her if she talked to men or boys they would kidnap her and do terrible things to her. He warned her if she was soiled, his words, she would not be able to ever come home and she’d have to go live in the house with the attic creatures. Bernadetta already knew not to talk to boys without permission; the last one she had talked to had gotten terribly hurt and it was all her fault. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Her father stopped leaving her tied to a chair for hours every day. He only did it when he was really, really mad. He still pulled her hair and called her names but he had gotten what he wanted, and now he didn’t need to worry as much about Bernadetta. Because Uncle had passed ‘without issue’, someday all of this would belong to Bernadetta. Since Bernadetta belonged to her father, all of this would always belong to him. He still wanted a son, and Bernadetta heard her mother crying often in secret because whatever father was doing to her hurt, and it wasn’t working. No sons came.

Bernadetta was unmarriagable. Father let her know that often, and told her it meant she was going to have to live here with him forever. She begged him to help her become marriageable and to stop being such a disappointment. Her father promised that if she just did everything he said, everything would work out.

Bernadetta’s mother taught her quiet activities to occupy her time with. Embroidery, cooking, painting. All delicate, nice hobbies for a good wife to have. Bernadetta worked very hard to become good at these things because they were essential to finding a good husband. She dreamed that if she could just make a perfect embroidered flower, a nice man would see it and fall in love with her. If it was an especially nice flower maybe that man would even take her away from her father forever and be kind to her.

Grandfather’s house had a greenhouse, and Bernadetta came to spend as much time as should could in its quiet warmth. She and her mother silently tended to flowers and did not raise their voices. As long as they were quiet and well behaved, Father left them alone.

**1173**

Bernadetta was confirmed to have a crest. Her father was pleased by this. Now they didn’t need that stupid Aegir boy! Men ought to be competing for Berndetta’s hand now. She was going to get shopped around to potential suitors, they were going to pay a lot to marry the crest bearing von Varley heiress.

Now that she was a little older, there were a lot of uncomfortable dances and balls to attend. She saw Ferdinand, but they did not have to dance together. She met a teenager named Hubert but she wasn’t allowed to dance with him because apparently his father did unsavory things like poison people who didn’t agree to the Insurrection. She met a loud boy named Caspar but she had to dance with his older brother instead. She met a boy named Linhardt, but his father didn’t like her father so they did not dance. She kept all her opinions to herself, because that was what a wife did. A good wife smiled a lot, a good wife didn’t speak.

A good wife tended her husband and made babies…where did those come from anyway? Bernadetta’s mother was tasked with the unenviable job of explaining sex to her daughter.

“Someday, you’re going to get married,” promised mother nicely.

“Father doesn’t think so,” said Bernadetta as she stared at the plant she was tending. Part of her was glad she was unmarriageable. She did not want a husband like her father.

“Father has many opinions,” said her mother darkly as she snipped away a stamen from the plant she was working on. “As I was saying, someday you’ll have a husband, and he will do the things husbands do to wives.”

Bernadetta glanced nervously at her mother. Hit them? Yell at them? What else did husbands do? Her mother pointed to the plants they were pollinating for specific flower colors, “It’s like this, but different. You will share a bed with your husband and he will do his duty. It may hurt at first and you may not like it. However, hopefully we will find you a nice husband and you may even like laying with him in bed, in time.”

That did not sound promising to Bernadetta. Were there nice husbands? “What _exactly_ happens in bed?”

Her mother’s face was rather grim as she worked in silence. She sighed and set her clippers down. “Well, men desire our bodies. You know how you’re growing breasts—”

“Barely,” muttered Bernadetta as she looked down at the two non-existent breasts her mother had said not to worry too much about. Her father scoffed that they were too small.

Her mother smiled, “Some men like small breasts! Some men like really giant ones. Some don’t like them at all. The point is that some men will look at you and desire to be with you, and they will try to take you to bed to have sex. When men see someone they want to be with, they respond by getting erections,” said her mother clinically. “Their penis gets hard and they need to get it soft again, so they stick it inside us. They will, um, rub us until they’re soft.”

Bernadetta froze as this was described to her. “Does _every_ man desire my body? Is a man just going to look at me and decide to have sex with me?”

Her mother faltered, “No, no! Only your husband is allowed to do that with you. Other men know not to, though they might want to, but if they try you need to scream at them and run away!” Bernadetta looked at her mother and nodded with fright. Great, now she could add the mysterious penis to her long list of fears!

Bernadetta’s mother continued, “It’s a wife’s responsibility to soften her husband, and only him because that’s how babies are made between men and women.”

Bernadetta’s hands were shaking as she tried to cross pollinate her plants. Her mother gently took her hands and looked at her, “I’m sorry this is scary. I was very nervous on my wedding night, and it hurt a lot because your father really didn’t know what he was doing. But, I got you out of it, and that is a good thing.”

Bernadetta teared up and nodded. Her mother smoothed Bernadetta’s purple hair back and hugged her, “Stay brave, and things will be fine.”

Bernadetta grew afraid of boys and their ‘erections’. She was ashamed that her body was going to fill them with desire. She didn’t want them to be hard on her, she did not want to be the one forced into making them soft. She did not want to make babies. She started freezing up when she had to dance with boys at balls. This made her father even angrier.

She even got afraid of male servants she had known all her life. She decided she would just stay safe in her room because it was the only place where only family was allowed. No one would get her and soil her and make her worthless in her room.

**1180**

The Countess had had enough. Bernadetta’s mother had her sewing shears, the ones that were forbidden from being used on paper, out like a weapon. She didn’t speak she was so furious as she chopped off Bernadetta’s long hair.

“What, what are you doing?” cried Bernadetta as her mother cut away the long hair her father liked so much. He told her men did not want to marry with a woman with short hair so she wasn’t allowed to have her hair cut shorter than to her elbows. Now it was up to her chin! Was her mother trying to get her killed?

“No one’s pulling your hair any more,” hissed the Countess. She was fuming, she was insane! Oh no Bernie, this was it, her mother had finally snapped and was going to get them both killed for real this time. There was an extra crazy glint to her mother’s normally downcast eyes, “You’re getting out of here.”

Yeah, thanks mom, now that she looked so unmarriageable her father was going to kick her out! She was going to have to live in the woods and feed off berries! “Where am I going?”

“Military school,” said the Countess with her jaw clenched.

A joke. Surely. Bernie in military school?! Her mother’s face was set in a menacing frown, “I’ve made friends in high places. You’re going to go to school with them.”

Bernadetta’s mouth dropped. This was fucking serious. Her mother started walking around Bernadetta’s room and shoving Bernie’s favorite things into an empty pillow case — her hedgehog coin purse, her paint brushes, yarn, embroidery hoops and floss, her trumpet, even her teddy bear! — damn her mom had really lost it. “No, stop!” Bernadetta dropped to her mother’s feet and tried to stop her. “You’re going to get us killed!” She couldn’t help the tears streaming down her face.

“Bernie, get up,” snapped the Countess. “Your name means brave, start acting like it!”

Bernie wasn’t brave! She was terrified of everything, a list that now freshly included her mad mother! “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to see me dead!”

“I’m trying to save you!” screamed the Countess. “Right now, your father is finalizing paperwork to marry you off to someone absolutely horrible! I cannot let him do this so I’m sending you away. Come on, we don’t have much time!”

“I don’t want to go die in the army!” cried Bernie. She was getting hysterical. “Why can’t you just let me finally get married? Then everything will be good—”

Bernadetta’s mother was not one for hitting. She used healing spells and kind words. Right now though she slapped Bernadetta across the face, “Snap out of it. No hysterics. Yes this is scary, but you will be safer at school than marrying this man. I promise.”

In shock Bernadetta wiped her nose and stared at her mother as she continued to pack up Bernadetta’s dearest possessions. She played Silence as she shook in place. Her father was going to lose his shit when he got back if she was gone. He was going to hunt her down and kill her like he always said he would. He was going to finally throw her in the ground next to her apparently no longer submissive mother.

“What will happen to you?” Bernadetta finally asked.

The Countess’ lips formed a thin, grim line. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.” She pushed Bernadetta through the halls. The house was dark, quiet. There was an unassuming wagon waiting near the front gate, filled with all the wonderful goods the Varley territory was known for - weapons, armor - on its way to a little place called Garreg Mach just over the mountains. There were strangers, _men_ , waiting to go. Oh no, she couldn’t travel with strange men, her father was going to call her soiled. He was definitely going to kill her.

Bernadetta turned to her mother desperately as tears streamed down her face. “Don’t do this!”

The Countess hugged Bernie close, “It’s already done.” Bernadetta was screaming. She was terrified. She felt her fainting coming on.

Bernadetta woke up hidden in a sack. She was being unloaded to the marketplace at Garreg Mach to a very confused weapons merchant. A white haired young woman excitedly yelled out, “Come on Hubert, I found her!”

The two students came into view, one rather intense looking young woman and a sinister looking shadow of a man. Surely, these were the faces of her impending doom. Bernadetta fainted again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to get the characterization of Bernadetta's mother out of the way before we meet her again in the present. Many fanfics make Bernie's mom as terrible as her father because Bernadetta isn't super positive about her in her supports and we know she never stops her husband from abusing their daughter. However, I don't think a man that demands submission from his daughter would tolerate anything less from his wife. 
> 
> From Bernie's POV her mom has her kidnapped and sent to a place where she's totally unprepared and scared of dying. So yeah, thanks mom! However, I think that the act of standing up to her awful husband and sending her daughter away at the risk of being abused/killed for such disobedience was a very brave act. My headcanon is that the Countess promises her support to the flame emperor in exchange for assurances for her daughter and eventual punishment of her husband. 
> 
> I wanted to depict Bernie as being a brainwashed by her father -- he's terrible, but he's convinced her he's doing what's best for her, the world is out to get her and he's the only thing protecting her from things far worse than him -- so when her mother finally sends her away she's horrified because in her mind she's finally marriageable and her mother is sabotaging the one thing she's been promised will make everything right.
> 
> In the next chapter we go back to the aftermath of the frying pan incident.


	6. The rescuer needs rescuing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was not how he was hoping their reunion was going to go...

**1186**

This wasn’t the first time Hubert had been set upon in the dark by an assailant, although he was pretty sure this was the first time he’d been attacked with a frying pan. Hubert had managed to throw one hand up just in time to take most of the incredible force behind Bernadetta’s hit. That’s probably why his brains weren’t all scrambled eggs right now, although his hand had been smacked firmly enough into his face to make him pass out for a little bit. He’d woken up when about 130 or so pounds of limp Bernadetta had crashed down on top of him.

This was not how he was hoping their reunion was going to go. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking rushing off into the twilight without a plan. He probably should have announced his presence better, especially giving who he was looking for. He had just been in such a hurry to make sure Bernadetta was safe that he hadn’t really considered how she might react to his laughable attempt at a rescue.

Everything hurt, especially Bernadetta’s knee indelicately jamming into his groin. That was really what pulled him painfully into consciousness after his own fall. Hubert fumbled to get her weight off of that spot in particular. He hadn’t ever given much consideration to kids, and right now it definitely felt like he was never having any.

He had landed in some soft mud, which he supposed he should be grateful for, instead of the rock hard ground. Hubert forced himself to sit up as he nestled Bernadetta’s dead weight in his arms. Repressed feelings came rushing back as he held her against himself. He thought about how brave and yet utterly silly she was for crying out, “I’m too young to die!” as she tried to kill him with the nearest heavy object.

She was an enigma to him, full of fear and yet so recklessly courageous. Hubert sighed because this had all the makings of a perfectly romantic reunion: a noble attempt to save someone from their terrible father, a race to a kind of tower in the middle of the woods, her falling into his arms (sort of), and if it were a fairy tale his kiss would be what woke her up. However, it was not especially romantic because he was worried he might be internally bleeding, and Bernadetta clearly hadn’t showered in a long time. Smells and injuries aside, kissing someone who was passed out was not alright despite it’s frequent employment in folk tales. Hubert sighed and gently patted her face as he prepared for her to scream at him.

She did not disappoint, but luckily she calmed down relatively quickly.

“Hubert!” She desperately felt for his pulse even though he was the one waking her up. “You’re alive!”

“It appears that way,” grunted Hubert as he looked down at her still in his arms.

“Please don’t kill me for revenge!” begged Bernadetta as she clutched at his uniform.

“Bernadetta, you really messed me up,” he whispered weakly. He needed her to focus, he needed serious help.

“Hubert, I am so, so sorry! I thought you were a murderer!” yelled Bernadetta. Well, actually that was accurate, Hubert _was_ a murderer. But she had her own impressive kill count from the war so he supposed she too was a murderer. “Why are you here anyway?”

Hubert took a deep breath, “The Emperor has requested your presence in Enbarr.”

“Oh no! Am I going to be executed for this—”

“I need help wedding planning,” moaned Hubert as he shifted around.

“What?”

“The imperial wedding, I’m planning it,” said Hubert in confusion. How could she not know about the hubbub surrounding the two biggest weddings of the century about to take place. Oh right, she was living isolated in the middle of the woods.

“Oh Edelgard’s wedding,” said Bernadetta with relief as she got out of his lap and dusted herself off.

“Obviously,” sighed Hubert as he started palpating himself and identifying bruises. “Who else’s wedding would I possibly be planning?”

“Yours?” tried Bernadetta as she helped him to his feet.

“Who on earth would I be marrying?” demanded Hubert as he rubbed his back.

“Uh, Dorothea?” She said it so earnestly he realized she was not joking even though that was a ridiculous notion.

Hubert burst out laughing at the suggestion and Bernadetta was seized with an unfortunate terror. Hubert stopped laughing as she fell back into the leaf litter. Apparently the fainting at his laugh was still very much a thing.

***

Bernadetta awoke to a familiar embroidered flower being shoved in her face. Hubert looked desperate, “No more fainting! I’m the injured one here, stop trying to make me save you.”

“I’m sorry!” shouted Bernadetta. She had almost gotten the fainting in check during the war but she hadn’t seen Hubert in almost a whole year and whatever tolerance she had built up was long gone. “And what do you mean save me?! I was perfectly fine until you showed up.”

Hubert was supporting himself against the trunk of the tree that held her little tree house, “I sent letters, and when you didn’t respond I sort of assumed the worst.”

“So you, you came to rescue me?” Bernadetta demanded. Who the hell did he think he was thinking Bernie needed his help? She was doing fine on her own!

“Well, yes I suppose,” said Hubert sheepishly. “If you had just regularly picked up your post none of this would have happened!”

“You were writing to me?” asked Bernadetta. Hadn’t he taunted poor lonely Bernie enough with his salacious vacation postcard? _Wish you were here_ , yeah right! Why on earth would she want to go listen to Dorothea and Hubert sexing up the beaches of Brigid?

“I mean it was only a couple letters,” said Hubert as he looked up at her temporary housing. “Have you really been camping for months out here?”

“Who said it was months!” squeaked Bernadetta. What was he spying on her too?

“Uh, well, you kind of reek Bernie,” said Hubert quietly.

Bernadetta gasped. Okay maybe her clothes were a little stiff and funky, and maybe she was using her headscarf to hide her messy mop but this was so rude! “Excuse me! I am doing field work, not entertaining wayward ministers! When I shower is my business Hubert!”

Hubert tried to take a few test steps and quickly stopped. He sighed and leaned against the trunk, “I think I’m really in trouble. I think you have to go get me help.”

Oh no this was mortifying. Was she really going to run home in the dark to get some soldiers to drag poor assaulted Hubert back to her parents’ house? Her father was never going to let this go. “I’m going to save you,” promised Bernadetta as she tried to support him. “I will give you a piggy back ride!”

“Bernie, no, I’m,” his voice dropped, “I’m far too heavy for you to do that.”

 _Oof_. Bernadetta dropped him like the many sacks of potatoes he was. She poked at his soft stomach, “You are deceptively fat I suppose.”

Hubert batted her hand away from his definitely not ab riddled stomach, “Don’t be mean.”

“Come on, put your arm over my shoulder, we’ll stumble back together!” insisted Bernadetta as she pulled his arm around her. Hubert was leaning kind of heavily on her. Bernie mustered her strength and focused on getting him back. He was easily 20 sacks of potatoes! Goddess damn, why did Byleth insist of making him bulk up to be a dark knight?! “Don’t worry Hubert, I’ll save you!”

***

Hubert was fortunate for 3 things: Bernadetta’s tree house was low to the ground, she hadn’t cracked his skull open, and her mother knew some white magic. The Countess carefully checked Hubert over and patched him up to much grumbling from the ex-Count — “ _It’s indecent for you to treat him_ ”, “ _Don’t make him strip_ ”, “ _Now you’re just ogling!_ ” — that was not appreciated. Meanwhile Bernadetta wasn’t even allowed inside the house in her present dirty state. She was being scrubbed down and decontaminated outside by servants.

Hubert was given a room for the night and brought his bags from his horse. Hubert pulled off his extremely dirty uniform and put on his change of clothes. It was hardly appropriate for a late dinner with a Countess and her daughter but it was all Hubert had. He made sure to pin his embroidered flower onto his shirt. He looked ridiculous.

The ex-Count was spouting off something dreadful in the other room. The Countess had a sip of wine and looked at the nearest guard, “Seems like our fussy baby is throwing a tantrum, send him to bed. You can give him a spanking if he needs it.” She looked extremely content as the strong looking guard smiled and bowed.

“Hubert are those your pajamas?” demanded Bernadetta, also clearly in comfortable casual clothing.

“Bernadetta, please leave the minister alone, he’s had a rough day,” insisted her mother gently.

They were going with a lame story that Hubert had been set upon by bandits and that Bernadetta had found him rather than the truth. Hubert wondered if the Countess could tell he’d been struck with a frying pan, and what that made her think of these alleged bandits. The renegade band of chefs that took down one of the top Adrestian generals, what a lark.

Bernadetta’s months of mail were set in front of her and she balked at it, “Why is there so much?”

“Well your friends wanted to check in on you I’m sure,” said the Countess kindly. “Oh but this one you should read first.”

Oh no, Hubert recognized that envelope. Bernadetta stared at the overly fancy gold envelope and then eagerly ripped it open, “Dear Bernadetta von Varley, you and your plus one are invited to celebrate the union of Byleth Eisner and Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd on the 21st of Red Wolf Moon.” The dumb Blue Lions were planning that wedding — Dedue with Mercedes and Annette — and they were totally trying to outdo the Adrestian/Leicester wedding at every turn. Not on Hubert’s watch! He was glad they were going first so that he knew what he and Hilda were up against.

“Please kindly RSVP by the 15th of Verdant Rain Moon.” Bernadetta blanched, “Shit! I missed the deadline!”

The Countess winced, “Language at the dinner table, dear.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have sent me to military school if you didn’t want me cursing,” murmured Bernadetta under her breath as she shook out the RSVP card. She looked at Hubert, “Do you think I can send it late?”

“I’m sure you can,” said Hubert. There was no way Byleth was going to turn Bernie away.

“A plus one! Who do they think I’m bringing?” grumbled Bernadetta. She glanced quickly at him, “Do you have a date?”

Hubert groaned as he thought about who he was taking, “Edelgard and Claude are attending together, so I have to take Hilda.” _Ugh_.

Bernadetta’s face was falling and so Hubert tried some damage control, “Go with Ferdinand! He was just complaining to me how he didn’t have anyone to bring.” Actually, he had more been fretting about how the person he wanted to bring — under tea table man, as Hubert was thinking of him — turned out to be a no good blackmailer, not that he would have brought him anyway.

Bernadetta brightened at the suggestion, then her eyes got suspicious, “How does Ferdie not have a date? I would think women would be throwing themselves at him! He’s prime minister!”

Hubert winced, did she really not know that Ferdinand was much more interested in men tossing themselves his way? “Uh, I believe he is just looking for the right person, and he has not found them yet.” If Berndetta did not know, it was not Hubert’s place to out his friend.

“Huh,” sighed Bernadetta as she checked off ‘coming, no guest’ on her RSVP card. “Oh no, what am I going to wear?”

The Countess’ smile was hard to miss, “Oh Bernie, you can finally wear that dress I made you—”

“No, not the green one! Green’s not my color,” protested Bernadetta.

The Countess was not deterred, “Maybe you could just try it on, maybe Minister von Vestra has an opinion.”

Minister von Vestra probably did not have an opinion, “I don’t really know anything about fashion —”

And yet he found himself being subjected to a mini fashion show that Bernadetta’s mother was clearly delighted by. Apparently she had spent the war idling her time by sewing her daughter a rainbow of formal wear in the hopes she could wear it after the war. Hubert knew the Varleys had a lot of wealth, but had he known they were spending it on nice fabrics during the war he might have pushed their taxes higher.

The Countess had linked her arm with Hubert’s in excitement, “I spent ages on this one, I’m so glad she’s finally putting it on.”

“Oh no, mom, please don’t make me show Hubert this,” begged Bernadetta from behind a privacy screen.

“Oh fine,” sighed the Countess dramatically. Apparently exaggeration was a family trait. “He is blushing though at the prospect!”

What a liar! Hubert wasn’t blushing, was he? Bernadetta apparently couldn’t resist the mystery, “Wait, is he really?”

Well, now he was. Bernadetta emerged looking like a carnivorous plant, a very sexy one. The greens against her purple hair touched on some almost villainous color palette that was really working for him. “You look radiant,” he managed. She really did, she looked like some forest spirit walking out of the pages of a fantasy story.

“I look like a pitcher plant,” she groaned as she adjusted the dramatic neckline.

Somewhere inside Hubert’s head an immature voice that sounded suspiciously like Caspar whispered, _A penis fly trap!_ Hubert shook that thought away and tried to focus, “Uh, well if you’re coming to Enbarr you should probably bring a couple formal options.” Oh no, what on earth was he saying? No she should wear as frumpy clothes as possible! He couldn’t do this again, he couldn’t have a crush on someone who was terrified by his mere presence.

The Countess was nodding enthusiastically, “Oh Bernie, how fun, you’ll get to go out in the capital! Maybe you’ll go to the opera.”

“Uh, go to Enbarr?” Bernadetta asked nervously. “But uh, don’t you need me around, to help around the house?”

The Countess looked confused, “I thought you would jump at the chance to leave!”

Bernadetta got a little flustered, “I uh, I don’t want to leave you home, totally alone, with _him_.”

The Countess sighed and got up to take Bernadetta’s hands, “I know. Things were, tough, while you were at school before your father was under house arrest, but I survived.”

Hubert said nothing. He had been there when the Count was placed under arrest. He had seen the Countess on that day with his own eyes. They found her in her bed with her hands tied together. She was malnourished and her pale fragile skin was covered in bruises and other signs of assault. She had looked weakly at Hubert, whom she had first met in secret more than a year before when she provided evidence of her husband’s crimes, “Does this mean the Flame Emperor rules?” Hubert nodded and apologized it had taken so long to get things ready for the arrest. The Countess sighed and said she was good at biding her time. She told him to never tell her daughter about what he had seen.

Her mother now winked at Bernadetta, “I have a whole crew of muscular Adrestian soldiers around the place to help me keep him in line!”

Hubert got the distinct impression those strapping soldiers were doing a bit more than that for the Countess. Good for her. The von Varley ladies clearly had a type. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped training after the war was done. Maybe Ferdinand was right and Hubert shouldn’t have given up on ever having abs.

The Countess gave her daughter a hug, “Plus you were in your tree house for the whole summer anyway. It was nice having you closer to home, but Enbarr isn’t that far away. Who knows, maybe I’ll have to plan a vacation and come visit!”

Before he knew it, Hubert found himself in the Varley’s carriage on the road to Enbarr. It was so packed to the brim with all of Bernadetta’s ‘essentials’ there was barely room for the two of them. Bernadetta kept apologizing but insisting she really needed this thing and that thing.

Hubert humored her as they squeezed into the small space left for them to occupy. He had always thought of her as kind of a cute little mouse but now he knew he was wrong. She was a pack rat! A total hoarder! He had thought Edelgard was an over packer, but Bernadetta really took things to a new level. Did she really need to bring this whole shrub with her? Did she really need that giant bear stuffed animal? An easel, really? He told her he’d buy her one in Enbarr, please it was just a visit, she wasn’t moving!

“See plenty of room,” lied Bernadetta as she squished in next to him. She was practically sitting in his lap, and Hubert feared that one bad pothole might doom them both to being crushed beneath the weight of her many bags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not clear, the countess is totally sexing up all the hot guards keeping her husband under house arrest ;)


	7. Mixed Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their B/A supports unlocked during the war

**Through the war, Garreg Mach and the Adrestian Front**

“You’re going to be a bow knight,” said Hubert calmly.

Bernadetta didn’t think she had heard him right, “B-bow knight! No! I’m a sniper!” Hidden in bushes! Far from battle, not a bow knight! Not on a horse!

Hubert cleared his throat and sighed, “You’re in danger because you’re not keeping up with the rest of us.” He was super serious all the time now the there was a war. No grinning, no laughing, at least not in front of her. He was still a total maniac on the battlefield though, more so than ever. Hubert loved being a soldier, it was like this was what he was born to do. Not Bernie. Oh no. Bow knight…dark knight…no! He was going to force her to ride out with him. Fuck no! He was always closest to the enemies because he was crazy!

Bernadetta moaned and dropped her head into her arms onto his desk, “Bernie won’t do it.”

Hubert poked her with his pencil. “You will, or,” his voice trailed off.

She pulled her head up to spy at him, “Or what?!” What would he do? Boil her with mire while she was in the sauna? Poison her with one of his mushrooms slid into a delicious dinner?

She missed his teasing, he had stopped when she told him how afraid of him she was. She was still a little scared of him — Hubert was extra scary now that they were at war — but she missed how he used to joke with her.

Hubert was staring at the ceiling of the strategy tent as if praying to who knew what cosmic deity he had time for, “Bernadetta, you will do this, and I’ll even get Ferdinand to train you with the horse. You’re good with animals, it will be fine.”

Oh sure dangle sexy Ferdinand in front of her, like that was going to work! Shit, it totally was going to work. How on earth did he know, was she that obvious in her crush on Ferdie?

“Make Shamir a bow knight,” whispered Bernadetta as if she could will him into changing his mind.

“I can barely make Shamir do anything,” sighed Hubert in frustration. “She’s staying a sniper, so you need to be a bow knight.”

“What’s next? Certification to be a brawler? You want Bernie to lose her shit and become a war master?!” She shook her arms in the air like she was Caspar in his gauntlets.

Hubert stifled a chuckle, “Please stop trying to make me laugh.”

Bernadetta got serious and stopped hamming up herself to try to get out of this assignment. Clearly Hubert was going to get his way.

He was staring at her, “What?”

“I just, ah, I’m really sorry,” she said softly.

“I can’t accept your apology until I know what it’s for, and I swear if you’re still trying to avoid this knight business—”

“No! I’m sorry I called you terrifying,” clarified Bernadetta.

Hubert’s frown softened slightly, “That was almost a year ago, and I’m used to that. No apology is necessary.”

“But, you’ve been avoiding me since then right? You’ve even stopped doing your deathly grin,” protested Bernadetta. He only frowned now. It hurt to know she was the source of his miserable, reserved mood. She missed running into him, and him teasing her with jokes. A lot of people found her annoying but Hubert used to find her hilarious, in his own weird way, and that was nice.

“I am merely trying not to frighten you, is there something wrong with that?”

“Yeah, it’s not working! You’re still super scary,” she said with exasperation. Hubert shut his eyes and sighed. Bernadetta quickly got to her point, “And it’s not fair! You can’t just quit talking and laughing just to try and make me feel better. I, I need to master my own fear!”

Hubert looked at her quickly and for the first time in a long time, smirked, “Is that right?”

“Yes,” said Bernadetta trying to be brave as his lip curled. “R-right.”

Hubert burst into a deep cackle and for a moment all Bernadetta saw was a flash of black. Just a threat of a fainting spell, that jackass! “Why are you laughing like that!”

Hubert’s laughter settled into a small chuckle, “You told me not to forgo laughing. So I laughed as hard as I could. Is this helping you conquer your fear?”

“No,” hissed Bernadetta. She paused, “But yes, I mean someday it might, maybe.”

Hubert was silently shaking with laughter and even that made her quake. Bernadetta sprung up from her chair, “AH! I’m not ready!” She bolted from the tent.

***

Hubert felt confident enough to loosen up in front of Bernadetta again. It was like giving him permission to laugh had been permission to run into her again. He had been going out of his way to avoid her, now he went out of his way to run into her. Always ‘accidentally’ of course. Hubert made excuses to show up at the greenhouse to tend his poisonous flower collection that just so happened to like the sun next to the carnivorous plants. Bernadetta seemed to show up in the strangest places as if she too was trying to serendipitously cross his path. They cooked together on nights where they missed dinner for one reason or another.

In time, these chance meetings grew into a ritual of running into each other at night. They left each other notes when they anticipated the possibility of a late dinner, which turned into just leaving notes. Hubert tried to be funny in his.

> _Dearest Bernadetta,_
> 
> _While I appreciate your efforts to fortify our defenses, please stop leaving your needles stuck in the arm chairs. I have a new scar upon my rear._
> 
> _Sincerely yours,_
> 
> _Minister von Vestra_

She grew bold with her own humor when she didn’t have to speak to him in person.

> _Hubert,_
> 
> _Glad you found the needles, please consider my request to become an ASSassin._
> 
> _Best wishes,_
> 
> _Bernie_
> 
> _P.S. PLEASE DO NOT MAKE ME AN ASSASSIN!!! I AM VERY HAPPY AS AN ARCHER._

This time however, her note had asked him to stop by her room specifically. He was super excited by the possibility of being invited in, but was determined not to read too much into it. He tried not to smile so much even though being around her always plastered one to his face. “A summons from Bernadetta? How historic.”

She flared her nostrils nervously at his dry greeting. “Um, I’ve got something to give you,” said Bernadetta shyly as her hands danced over something hidden.

Hubert’s heart raced in his chest. Was it possible that she liked him as much as he liked her? “Do you? What is it?”

She looked up at him and managed to meet his eyes for three whole seconds before turning red and looking away, “A token of apology for all of the rude stuff I've said. It's, um... It's only right. I hope this will help you let go of all the grudges you're probably holding against me!”

Hubert leaned against her doorway trying to look a little less looming and tall, “There are no grudges Bernadetta. But, very well, I’ll accept it.”

“You will?” A smile flashed across her face, “Here you go!”

She pressed the delicately embroidered flower into his hands. He studied it, she had done a marvelous job on the front with her realism, and the back was done with great care as to not catch on anything. It had a long pin with it so it could be fixed to ones clothes. The overall piece was very neat, and Hubert could only imagine it had taken her a long time, “This is certainly lovely, but why give it to me? It seems like something you would send to a female friend, or someone you had romantic feelings for.”

At the words ‘ _romantic feelings_ ’ Bernadetta froze up and stared at the ground. It took a few breaths for her to recover, “But it’s um, lovely, you said, right? That’s why I’m giving it to you. I though maybe if you wore it, you’d look less, um,” her voice was barely audible, “Terrifying.”

“You would like me to wear it?” Hubert stared at her wishing she would just look at him again.

“Ah! You hate it,” she squeaked. “I knew it, I knew you’d be angry, ugh, I’m so sorry.” Her words poured out rushed and panicked.

Hubert pinned the favor to his chest, “Do I put it here?” It looked absurd on him of all people, but it was from her so he was going to wear it. “It’s really quite nice. I cannot say it suits me, but,” he paused as he saw her staring at it. It was the closest she’d come to looking at his face for an extended period of time.

“It looks great on you!” She insisted with a laugh. He knew it was not her intention, but he could not help but feel like the butt of a joke when she laughed like that. Just as Hubert’s laugh struck terror into Bernadetta, her laugh managed to draw up a distinct humiliation in him.

He swallowed uneasily as she laughed at him, and she noticed. “Um, sorry.”

He wanted her to look at his face, but he’d settle for her being able to stare at his heart, “Nothing else for it, I suppose. I dislike you laughing at me, but it is preferable, at least, to you fleeing in terror. Therefore, I will wear this when I am around you in the future.”

“Really? You will? I'm so glad! But you're sure? You're really sure?” She was practically dancing in place she was so nervous.

Hubert resisted the urge to grin at how cute she was being, “If you're going to question me about it, perhaps I'll change my mind—”

Bernadetta cut him off, “No-no-no-no-no! I believe you. You're a lot less scary with it on.”

“That is what's most important,” said Hubert sincerely. He drew in a dry breath, “Now, I suppose it is safe for me to return to my usual strict methods.” He took a step closer and Bernadetta emitted a soft peep as she got red. Hubert gently brought his hand up to lift her chin, just to tip her head up to look at him so that she could see he was sincere. It was meant to reassure her. It was meant to be comforting and soft.

She flinched at his touch. He wanted to kiss her, but how could he when she couldn’t even look him in the face? Hubert moved back with as much speed as he could and muttered an apology. Both stared at the floor and Bernadetta backed into her room. Hubert mumbled some lie about work and retreated.

Sometimes a flower was just a flower and nothing more.


	8. Wartime Supports

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta tries dating a punchy boy, a sleepy boy, and a horsey boy.

**Through the war, Garreg Mach and the Adrestian Front**

If Hubert was forward with his caress, then Caspar was breaking down the door. Bernadetta really wanted to like Caspar. He wasn’t scary, he didn’t tower over her, and she could look him in his super cute eyes. He was ripped with muscles and really liked the food she cooked. But he wasn’t slow, and he wasn’t gentle. He was way too hard, like her mother had warned her men would be. He treated poor Bernie much like he might haul around his gear when they were going off to battle.

“Come on, Bernadetta! Open up! Why are you so mad at me? I have no clue what this is about, but I'm sorry!” yelled Caspar for the whole strike force to hear. She had shut herself in her room after their last ‘date’, more like disaster! But he wouldn’t leave, so she opened her door and marched right up to his face.

Bernadetta found herself turning red as she clenched her fists, “You have no clue? Don't you remember what you did to me?!” He had carted her into the woods like a maniac even as she yelled for him to put her down.

“Uhh, no? I didn't do anything!” insisted Caspar. He looked bewildered, gosh, he had a rock for a brain! A nice friendly rock, but a rock all the same!

“Yes you did! You did all kinds of things! But the worse one was carrying me off...twice! I thought I might die!” She stamped her foot she was so angry. “You hauled me around like a piece of luggage!” Everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch this total relationship implosion. Petra was gaping. Linhardt was snoozing and missing the drama. Ferdinand was wide eyed at the display. Edelgard was frowning with Hubert over her shoulder, but Bernadetta forced herself not to look at his expression. The last thing she needed was a surprise fainting episode during a break up. Dorothea was looking at Caspar like she was going to murder him.

“Again, why are you mad about that?” Caspar doubled down on being oblivious to her feelings.

Bernadetta let out a pent up scream, “This is never going to work! I’m sorry, but I can’t go on another date with you!”

Eventually the fanfare died down and people resumed their day despite the outburst.

“Lover’s quarrel?” sneered Hubert in a jealous way that made her cringe. Caspar was far from being a lover; they had kissed and even that was too much for her. Caspar’s kisses were rough; that was just his manner. His energy and enthusiasm made Bernadetta want to hide herself in her room, alone.

Dorothea chased him off, “Get out of here Hubie! You’re not helping.” She looked at Bernadetta sympathetically, “Girl we’ve got to hook you up with the right man.”

***

Linhardt also liked being alone. They did things alone, together! Linhardt fished while Bernadetta painted. He was never one for an unearned compliment and he was a bit of a know it all. This was most obvious when he gave uninvited critiques of her work, “You should use vermilion there.”

Bernadetta rather thought what she was painting should be crimson. After redoing the whole thing with vermilion, Linhardt looked and sighed, “You were right about using crimson.” His words often made her just want to snap her paint brushes in half.

That annoying feature aside, Linhardt was much softer then Caspar. Making out with him was rather soothing and pleasant. Laying in the shade of a tree on the grass with Linhardt was lovely. He’d kiss her and pause to smile at her as they rubbed their clothed bodies together. She could feel his erection and half expected him to whip it out and try to stick it in her, but he never did. He was content to just passively rub away. Bernadetta felt a strange feeling welling inside her: she was excited by her ability to turn him on, but she was way too afraid to ask to take things further. That’s what married people did, and maybe that was why Linhardt was holding off. Yet he never talked about the potential of marriage, he even questioned the concept of it and mused that he might never take a partner. She wasn’t in a rush to get married off, but to hear him sound so confident that they weren’t going to get married put a big damper on things.

He described being with her as thrilling, though when pressed, it appeared it was just the fact that he was with another person. Bernadetta sometimes felt like Linhardt could be happy with anyone in this way. They didn’t end with an argument like with Caspar, they just sort of coasted to a stop.

***

Ferdinand was a good listener as he gave her an ear to let out her problems over tea, “Well, Linhardt and Caspar are both a bit foolish and immature if you ask me. I think you are wonderful, and I am sure things will work out eventually.”

Bernadetta sighed as she held her steaming tea, she looked up at him with a nostalgic smile, “Remember when we were almost betrothed?”

“Oh Bernadetta, I am still ashamed I begged my father not to go through with that,” sighed Ferdinand sincerely. “I just, ooh, that doll you had was so creepy.”

“It was not,” protested Bernadetta.

“It looked cursed,” said Ferdinand. “But, I am sorry. Sometimes I find myself wishing you and I had been betrothed, I think I could have been very happy with such an arrangement.”

Bernadetta’s blush spread across her face. It went on her neck, it invaded her ears. Ferdinand was looking fondly at his teacup as if imaging such a life and Bernadetta was grateful he wasn’t seeing her totally consumed by her flush. “Phew, it’s getting a little hot in here, maybe it’s the tea.” Dorothea was trying to teach her how to flirt, but Ferdinand did not seem to notice.

“Are you getting worked up about this?” Ferdinand was suddenly paying close attention to her. He sounded mortified, “It was a long time ago, and all I can do is apologize.” He cleared his throat, “Anyway, I think you and I have become much better friends than we would have if we met each other through marriage.”

Bernadetta sighed and stared at Ferdinand; he was so handsome. That luscious mane of red hair, those kind cinnamon eyes, his big beaming smile (not to mention all the tight muscles). Oh no Bernie, these were exactly the kind of thoughts about a man that would horrify her father. Luckily, Dorothea was trying to single handedly undo everything that Bernadetta’s father had ever taught her.

Dorothea was helping her with her hair (who knew it could look so good with brushing) and with her clothes (tight purple mini dress). She was getting her to flirt and to tease. Bernadetta was learning to scream a lot less and smile a lot more. When Bernadetta described the sex talk her mother had given her, Dorothea groaned, “If it hurts, that’s bad and you need to say something. Boss him around until it feels good! And frankly Bern, if you don’t bother to touch yourself, you’re not going to know good from bad.”

Caspar was too hard. Linhardt was too soft. Maybe Ferdinand would be just right! So Bernadetta slowly worked up the courage to touch herself. When she did she decided she might as well picture Ferdie. Fantasy Ferdinand made her hum happily to herself in her room, but real Ferdinand just made her groan with how utterly oblivious he was to her affections. Fantasy Ferdie and fingers were good company through the lonely years of the war.


	9. The minister and the mercenary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert finds out being with Shamir is dangerous. 
> 
> (Hubert x Shamir C and A support based)

**Through the war, Garreg Mach and the Adrestian Front**

Hubert buried the memory of Bernadetta’s flinch at his gentle touch. He could not bring himself to think about kissing her because he knew someone as sweet as her would never want someone as scary as him. He still wore the flower she’d crafted, but only to keep her calm in his presence since he still managed to upset her so. He tried not to listen when Dorothea was gossiping about the dates Bernadetta was going on. He turned his romantic focus away from her, but apparently he had a type and it was archers.

Shamir wasn’t a shy woman, and her loyalty was bought and sold. “What do you want?”

“Nothing in particular,” said Hubert. He had no reason to be around here other than to chat with her. He regarded the arrows at her hip, “I was just recalling your impressive skill with a bow. I’m willing to bet you could put an arrow through the neck of an enemy general from quite a distance.” His lip twitched into an almost smile as she sneered at his inept flirting. He brought his eyes up to meet her unimpressed violet eyed stare. “As the bodyguard of the emperor, I would go as far as to say you might pose the most dangerous kind of threat there is.”

She rolled her eyes at him and scoffed, “Don’t worry your fragile little self. Your lady princess is safe, I wouldn’t shoot my employer.”

“I would certainly hope not, although for some mercenaries a contract means very little,” said Hubert as he studied her gloves. He wanted to know what those would feel like running over him, he wanted her fingers in his mouth. Hubert took a deep breath and admonished himself for letting his sexual desires get in the way of his job. Shamir, despite being one incredibly attractive woman, was openly disrespectful to Edelgard as if she were trying to get under Hubert’s skin. If that was her aim, it had completely worked, “You would do well to remember that Lady Edelgard is no mere princess, you should take care to learn the proper form of address for your employer.”

Shamir snorted, “I said ‘lady’, and I already told you, I’m not going to break the princess’ contract.”

“What did I _just_ say?” Hubert loved and hated the way she was always pushing at his boundaries.

Shamir rolled her eyes at him, “Proper address, right, next time.”

The eye rolling, the scoffing. Hubert sighed at her tactics because they were the same as his, “My patience has limits. You’re in the Emperor’s good graces for now, but know if you become a problem I will not hesitate to eliminate you.”

Shamir laughed at him. “You’re unstable Hubert, be careful who you threaten. I don’t take kindly to those who get in the way of my contracts.”

She warned him about threats by giving him her own. The irony thrilled him. He pretended to be unaffected, “Is that a threat?”

“Just some advice,” she teased. Shamir was insufferable sometimes. Yet he flirted with her all the same.

She wasn’t committed to the Adrestian cause, but she was committed to their coin. For all her threats and dark looks, she still saved his life and eliminated assassins with ease. She didn’t hesitate to strike down former allies from the Knights of Seiros. It didn’t seem to affect her at all.

She formed a habit of sneaking up on him and often took him by surprise just to prove she was better than him. He found it uncomfortably thrilling when she would pop around a corner with a knife and tease that she’d let him go, this time anyway.

It was unfortunate that she saw him killing off some enemies that Edelgard had suggested should be let go. They had been sent to kill people in the night, like hell he was letting them leave their camp alive.

Shamir regarded him and the two executed prisoners with a cool appraising stare, “I believe your mistress told you to let them go.”

 _Mistress_. That was rich, Shamir hated using the proper address for Edelgard, but mistress was a little far even for her. It reeked of jealousy, and that caught Hubert off guard. He cleared his throat, “And that is what I will tell her I did. But leaving them alive would have been a mistake, so I did what had to be done.” He had no regrets, in fact he carried far fewer than most people probably thought he ought to.

“Is that so? Maybe you’re not just some sycophant. It takes real guts to disobey a direct order,” challenged Shamir as she got closer.

Edelgard looked at the big picture, she didn’t have to see every tiny brush stroke. “Her time is rightfully occupied with a great deal of concern and contemplation. Her affairs are of far greater consequence than a little trifle like this,” Hubert gestured wildly to the bodies. This was barely a drop in the bucket of the hundreds, no thousands, that had and would die in this war. “Much rests on the decisions she makes. But little details of this kind happen to be my area of expertise. So I simply handle them. Better that than to burden her with needless debate.”

“Logical through and through, aren’t you?” Shamir was baiting him. She was practically against him and Hubert vaguely wondered if she was planning on stabbing him. She was always going on about her contracts, maybe she was going to start enforcing Edelgard’s every order to the letter. That would be unfortunate, for her. Finding her attractive wasn’t enough to make him merciful if it came down to her versus him.

“That is how I do things,” said Hubert through gritted teeth.

“I like people who are thorough,” she said softly as her gloved hands settled on his waist.

Hubert swallowed at the unexpected turn of the conversation. He steadied his breathing as he cautiously traced the curve of her jaw, “You seem quite thorough in your methods as well.” He scarcely believed he had just transitioned from executing two prisoners to making out with someone for the first time, but here he was. Shamir’s hands were bold as they explored inside his trousers.

“So that’s why you wear such loose pants,” she teased with a rather smug looking smile as she effortlessly worked him.

No one else had ever touched his cock before. She did not remove her gloves which wasn’t the most pleasant sensation on that highly sensitive skin. Hubert grabbed her hand and used his teeth to tear the leather from it. Shamir looked at him like no one had ever looked at him before, with lust in her eyes, and sneered, “Are we doing this or what?”

It was apparent in about two seconds he had no idea what he was doing. He tried to play things cool but Shamir growled something along the lines of, “Do I really have to teach you noble brats everything?” She forced him into the nearest bush and claimed his virginity. The two recently deceased would-be assassins mere yards away set the tone for how their relationship was going to go.

It was easy to make love to her, but it was hard to actually be in love with her. Shamir had secrets and no interest in sharing them; she didn’t really want to know any of his. To find love between life and death was a gift, and not one that Shamir would give him. She said her partner died in the Dagda-Brigid war, and she wasn’t much interested in replacing them. Hubert got that message loud and clear. The blunt honesty she used hurt far more than he expected, and yet he craved her so he kept coming back even as being with her felt like she was ripping off a scab on his heart every time they were together.

So he stopped fretting about the kind of rough and dangerous sex she was most excited by. Hubert was adept at playing the scary man in the shadows, and it wasn’t hard to transition that into his private life. She liked when he was able to successfully sneak up on her when she was assigned to night patrol. Hubert pulled Shamir into a shadowy corner and kissed her, “You’ve got to be more careful, there are bad people around.”

Shamir sneered as her knife pressed against the crease of his thigh, “Give me a good reason not to kill you.”

“I’ll give you three,” he whispered heavily as his fingers slid into her pants and up into her.

She kissed at his ear, she bit it and traced the curves with her tongue. “Put me against the wall.”

Hubert complied and leaned her back against the stone. Shamir smirked, “Not like this, turn me around, and harder than last time Vestra. I want to feel the danger of being with you.”

Hubert spun her around and ripped down her pants. He kissed her neck and bit at her shoulder as he fucked her against the wall. That was definitely what it was, fucking, not anything more, not to her. He held her hands up at the wrists and let her struggle against his hold. His other hand would slide around her front and pull her close so there was no escaping him. That always got her extremely excited.

He tried to cuddle with her once, and she pulled a knife on him and kicked him out of her room. She would never be caught dead anywhere near his room so they either went to hers or whatever empty shady spot they could find. There was no afterglow to this kind of sex. Just soreness, bruises, and bite marks in questionable places. Dorothea had to heal him on occasion because he was too embarrassed to go to Linhardt, “Hubie, what the hell is she doing to you? This is a serious bite mark.” It was these kinds of injuries that made him grateful Shamir rarely sucked him off.

“That’s what she likes,” sighed Hubert as he felt the sting from Dorothea repairing his wound.

“What do you like?” challenged the songstress.

“I don’t know,” whispered Hubert. “I guess I just like being wanted.”

Dorothea looked at him like he was pathetic, “Hubie, if you get fucked to death by this mercenary, I am not going to your funeral.”

He’d never been with anyone else, what did he know? He knew wanted to hold someone, he wanted them to feel safe with him. Maybe though he was too dangerous for anyone to feel safe with him. Maybe this was the cost of being such a good soldier in this war. Shamir didn’t need any protecting, she liked the edginess of being pushed to her limits. She fit him he supposed. She felt right even when she felt wrong.

In time Hubert realized that Shamir probably didn’t even like him all that much, but this was war, and pickings were slim. Given the options in the Imperial Army, she settled on him. Hubert settled too and accepted they were using each other to get by. Hubert played along because there was nothing better going on in his life; the war was brutal, Edelgard was depressed, the Agarthans were always pushing their demands onto his plate. Being the version of himself Shamir wanted hurt less than being alone.

As the war began to stagnate and drag on, funds became tight and stretched thin. Hubert was disappointed, but unsurprised when Shamir came to him with her bags packed. He folded his arms and stared at her, “And here I was a fool for thinking you might have started to grow fond of me.” He didn’t disguise the bitterness in his words.

“For someone so intelligent, you’re very dense. This isn’t about you, this is about the money,” sighed Shamir. He could hear the smallest sliver of regret on her tongue, and he held onto that for the lonely years of the war that followed.

He saw her again before the peace was declared. The professor had resurfaced and Shamir cast aside her need to get paid to join Byleth. Too bad they were on the Faerghean side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, not the last we'll hear from Ms. Shamir!


	10. A very good plan!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert and Ferdinand solve problems, by making 10 more!

**1186**

“Welcome to Enbarr!” said Ferdinand cheerfully as Bernadetta fell from the carriage in a waterfall of fancy ball gowns. Hubert was pushing himself free of some heavy skirts as he came up for air.

“Ferdinand! How are you?” Bernadetta was nervous to see him again after such a long time, but Ferdinand hugged her tight. She wasn’t fainting from fear but she almost fainted from happiness at his embrace. Had he managed to get even more handsome since the war? Was that possible?

Hubert was spitting out some fluff from a bright purple boa that had gotten quite friendly with him on the ride. “Ferdinand, have you been keeping your affairs in order?”

Ferdinand blushed and sputtered, “Hubert! What a way to phrase that! Yes everything has been fine, don’t worry, Enbarr clearly did not burn down in your absence.” Ferdinand put his hands on his hips, “Did you even let poor Bernadetta stop on the road or did you just ride straight here?” He looked sympathetically at Bernie, “You must be famished, come, we must take tea!”

Bernadetta had been to the Imperial Palace a handful of times during the war. It had to be the biggest building in all of Fodlan and the tea room was simply amazing. Amazingly huge! Bernadetta felt extra fancy as Ferdinand pulled out her chair and started to serve them snacks. Oh wow, what a way to return to civilization from the woods! Hubert looked as happy as ever as he grumbled about going to go get some coffee.

“So you are going to consult on her majesty’s wedding dress?” Ferdinand seemed keenly interested in that.

Bernie nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah I was thinking maybe—”

“Feathers, think about it Bernadetta,” said Ferdinand dramatically. He was pulling out sketches from beneath the table.

Hubert frowned, “You were specifically banned from giving anymore suggestions.” He lifted the table cloth as if to double check no one was under the table, that was strange to Bernadetta.

Ferdinand waved him off, “It is just a friendly offer of help, I assure you. I have no ulterior motives other than to make our Emperor look way better than Dimitri at his wedding.”

“I highly doubt Dedue is making the king of Faerghus look like an overgrown chicken,” started Hubert.

“Oh de-do you now?” teased Ferdinand. “I think you underestimate Mr. Molinaro’s keen fashion sense. He had the most wonderful scarves in the war, but I guess I would not expect you to notice anything like that, Mr. Uniform.”

“Mr. Uni—” started Hubert heatedly. Bernie sighed, these two hadn’t changed, at all. Hubert set down his coffee, “Uniforms are efficient Ferdinand. And no, I was a little focused on trying to kill Dedue in battle, not grading how he accessorized his armor.”

“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t yell about killing our new allies,” piped up Bernie with a nervous glance around at the people within earshot.

“Who’s yelling? I’m not yelling,” protested Hubert, even though everyone in the tea room was looking at him.

Ferdinand shrugged and smiled at Bernadetta, “So, what have you been up to, you will have to fill me in on how you spent your year of peace!”

Is that what they were calling it now, peace, not surrender? Bernie was grateful she supposed, a year of peace sounded much better than ‘that time Bernie messed up and made the emperor have to do a bad hostage negotiation’. Hubert hadn’t brought Gronder field up at all though, maybe everyone was letting it go! Or maybe this was all a giant trap, oh no, why didn’t she realize this earlier! Bernadetta began to sweat. “Uh, I was mostly at home, and living in the woods,” said Bernie sheepishly.

“In, the, woods?” Ferdinand raised an eyebrow.

“I was cataloging plants!” Oh no, Ferdie was going to think she was so lame.

“Ah,” said Ferdinand before taking a long sip of tea. It was a polite way of saying “ _I do not know what to say_ ”.

Bernadetta was saved by Edelgard coming into the tea room. People were getting up out their chairs and Bernie scrambled to get her etiquette in order. “Oh stop,” demanded Edelgard, “Go back to your tea times! We need to stop doing this every time I enter a room.”

Most people complied. Hubert did not sit back down until he had pulled out the Emperor’s chair and she was settled. Edelgard did not scare Bernie quite as much as Hubert but there was always going to be a small desire to scream inside her every time she looked at her. Oh no, what if she was still mad about Gronder! Well, she didn’t _seem_ mad. Bernie dared to relax.

Edelgard seemed smaller than Bernadetta remembered. It must be that she wasn’t wearing all that armor she wore during the war, today she was just in regular imposing Emperor garb. Edelgard patiently waited while Ferdinand waxed poetic about the particular tea blend they were enjoying. She exchanged a quick smirk with Hubert and then graciously thanked Ferdinand and settled back in her chair to enjoy her tea.

“Bernadetta, I’m glad you’re here, safe and sound,” said Edelgard pleasantly as she helped herself to a scone.

“I was safe where I was! Hubert just freaked out,” protested Bernadetta.

Edelgard smirked, “Well, Hubert can’t help himself but freak out for people when he cares about them.”

Hubert got red, “Lady Edelgard, please.”

No, surely Hubert only cared for Bernie in so much as she could help him! If anything, Hubert should seriously wish to kill her! She had given him such a hard time in school and in the war, and on the way here while they repeatedly bumped knees and got crushed by all her stuff! Oh no, what if once she helped with this wedding he offed her? “Cares about? Uh, well I’d be surprised if Hubert cares for me especially after I sort of knocked him out with a frying pan.”

Edelgard and Ferdinand both failed to contain their giggles. Edelgard put on a forced serious face, “I assume it was a rather large frying pan.”

“Uh, more for one person meals,” admitted Bernie. It wasn’t like she was inviting anyone into the woods. She liked when she and her mother secretly met up in the greenhouse for tea and cakes, but for the most part Bernie had been eating alone for the last half a year. She was just trying to prepare herself for the rest of her hermit life!

“It was a very forceful swing,” said Hubert quietly as he looked at the spread of sweets. He did not partake. “Anyway, I have caught Bernadetta up on the state of the planning—”

“As in, not planned at all,” sighed Edelgard. “Bernadetta, I am sorry we are imposing on you like this but frankly I was never a little girl to play pretend wedding, and Hubert, uh, has many talents but wedding planning is not one of them.”

“And my talents have been completely ignored,” added in Ferdinand.

Edelgard gave him a small measured glare, “I said no hoop skirts and I meant it Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand threw up his hands, “You make one bad hoop skirt suggestion—”

“Hoop skirts are cumbersome,” interjected up Bernadetta as she recalled the disastrous ball in which she had worn one as a young teen. She was pretty sure half of Adrestia had seen her bloomers during that unfortunate episode.

“Clearly Hubert made a good call in suggesting you come,” proclaimed Edelgard as she finished her tea.

“Oh, I thought you had suggested it!” said Bernadetta in surprise. Hubert really wanted her here?

“No, he assured me you had very fine embroidery skills, he even let me inspect his precious flower—”

Hubert was getting red as he adjusted the little threaded bloom on his chest. Did the emperor just refer to it as his _precious_ flower? A jest right? He cleared his throat, “Bernadetta possesses the ideal skill set for a wedding planner. She has training in formal wear construction from her mother, she is able to whip up projects in record time, she cooks and has a refined palate which I am hoping to weaponize for the cake tasting since I do not care for sweets—”

“You sound like you are planning a battle,” teased Ferdinand. Bernie was almost sad that he had interrupted Hubert’s stream of compliments, that was rather unlike him to heap praises on anyone. “Are you making Bernadetta prepare for a wedding planner certification exam?”

“Well she would surely pass with an A,” growled Hubert. “While you would totally fail.”

Ferdinand looked offended at the notion. “I would get a better grade than you sir!”

“Welcome to Enbarr,” said Edelgard sweetly as Hubert and Ferdinand continued to trade insults.

After their tea, Hubert escorted Bernadetta to the room she’d be staying in. All her stuff had been brought up from the carriage, apparently it had taken multiple trips.

Bernadetta stared, open mouthed, at the guest room. “I have to stay here?”

“Is it, is it not to your liking?” Hubert asked quietly.

“It’s perfect!” It was the right size for all her stuff in such a way that it felt full, but not too crowded. Her giant bear was sitting guard at the foot of her bed, her shrub was positioned by the window to get enough sun. There was an attached bathroom, there was a small dining area and kitchenette, and then there was the workshop.

“It’s not very big,” said Hubert apologetically as he showed her the work space.

The room was clearly meant to be a study, but it had been converted into a craft room. There was a dress form waiting, and a nice big table for cutting yardage. Bernadetta’s supplies had been arranged and neatly sorted. It had ample lighting and a nice cushy arm chair that looked perfect for curling up with an embroidery hoop. Could one be a hermit in the biggest city in Fodlan? Bernie never wanted to leave!

“Well, then I’ll let you get settled,” said Hubert as he gave her a stiff, formal bow.

***

Ferdinand gave Hubert all of ten minutes of peace before appearing in his doorway, “Minister von Vestra.”

“Prime Minister von Aegir,” returned Hubert, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his voice. Ferdinand only called him by his title when he needed a favor.

“My mother visited while you were gone,” said Ferdinand as he came into Hubert’s office uninvited. He carefully shut the door and took the chair across from Hubert’s desk. It was stacked high with all the paperwork that had accrued in Hubert’s absence. There was always so much paperwork!

“And how is Lady von Aegir?” Hubert did not really care.

“Oh, she is well! She was here to visit my father, for their anniversary,” said Ferdinand pleasantly. His father was in prison. A nice prison, but still, a prison. “It was actually a rather good visit. They are quite proud of all the work I’ve been doing as Prime Minister, my father finally seems to be coming around to the reforms we have been doing.”

Hubert listened to Ferdinand prattle on and wondered when the point would be reached. It took about twenty minutes of catching Hubert up on what each of Ferdie’s many sisters were doing, how his mother’s rose garden was the envy of the neighbors, and all manner of other mundane von Aegir updates before Ferdinand built up to his current predicament. “They asked about if I was seeing anyone.”

“And?”

“I suggested I was,” started Ferdinand with extreme reluctance.

“ _And?_ ”

“And they said they could not wait to meet _her_ ,” said Ferdinand with a groan. “And fool that I am, I said I would bring her by!”

“Ah,” said Hubert. “So your parents think you’re courting a lady?”

Ferdinand nodded. “I wanted to tell them the truth, but, oh Hubert, they’re my parents! They will never understand. A von Aegir cannot be gay.”

Hubert stared at the gay von Aegir before him. “What do you think will happen if you tell them?”

“They will disown me,” said Ferdinand gravely.

That was a possibility, but Hubert tried to be positive, “That might not be too bad.”

Ferdinand gave him a look that could curdle milk, “You know Hubert, just because you hated your parents does not mean I hate mine. I love my parents, and they love me.”

“I didn’t hate my mother,” said Hubert under his breath, although there was no denying that he had totally hated his father. “So what, you’ll bring by a fake girlfriend to keep them happy? Will that actually make you happy?” Somehow Hubert doubted it would.

“I already arranged to do tea before my mother leaves Enbarr,” said Ferdinand as he hid his face in his arms on Hubert’s desk. “I need a convincing fake girlfriend in a week!”

“Hire someone?” suggested Hubert. “Perhaps a prostitute?”

Ferdinand’s head popped up with an horrified expression plastered on his face, “It must be convincing! It must be someone who knows me, someone who cares!”

“Well Dorothea’s not here, and Edelgard’s engaged to someone else,” said Hubert as the gears turned ominously inside his head, “I suppose Bernadetta could step in.”

“I cannot do that to her!” said Ferdinand. “She has enough work as it is having to make a whole wedding dress!”

Hubert stared at the paperwork that he could not focus on in the face of Ferdie’s problems and sighed, “Well, Bernadetta would like a date to the upcoming Faerghus fiasco, maybe you could trade her for that. Delicately explain the situation with your parents, she can do tea with your mother and father, and you escort her to the professor’s wedding.”

Ferdinand’s eyebrows shot up, “That could work.”

Hubert was a tactician, of course it was going to work!


	11. Gronder Field, pt 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did exactly happen to Bernie when everyone met up at Gronder?

**Near the end of the war, Gronder Field**

They had lost Garreg Mach to the Church in an attack led by Seteth, and had been pushed firmly back into the Empire’s territories. The war was taking a turn for the worst as the Alliance pushed at them from the east and the newly invigorated Kingdom pushed down from the north. Things were looking poor to say the least.

Gronder was the bread basket of Adrestia. If it was captured they were going to starve. The Kingdom had the Tailtean plains safely nestled behind mountains and a horrible fortress city. Gronder was protected by only Fort Merceus, and if it fell to the allied Kindgom and Church forces, the Empire and the Alliance were absolutely fucked by Hubert's estimations.

“Do you believe that the Professor is really back?” Edelgard asked quietly as she and Hubert ran the numbers one more time. There was no way they were going to win without drastic action if the reports were true. It really felt like a bad joke to ask if the goddess might be on their side. She literally wasn’t.

“I believe that people have seen the sword of the creator,” said Hubert quietly. “I must assume she is the one wielding it.”

“Why would she go to the kingdom though,” hissed Edelgard. It was no secret this development was shaking the Emperor to her core. The professor had sided with them against Rhea in the crypts five years ago, and woken up to side with Dimitri. It was as if their divine support had been revoked.

Worst of all, Dimitri was supposedly totally off his rocker. Edelgard and Hubert were sort of banking on Faerghus continuing to rip itself apart while they dealt with the Alliance’s flip flopping loyalty. Then the professor had come to heal the Kingdom. Now the old Blue Lions were organizing and marching on Gronder. Four armies would come to a head and three of them wanted to see Adrestia burn.

“She was our teacher, not theirs,” snapped Edelgard as she slammed her fist on the table. Teacher, mentor, friend.

“She’s the goddess,” said Hubert softly.

“You don’t even believe in the goddess,” snarled Edelgard.

Hubert drummed his fingers on the table, “No. But we all watched her cut her way free from nothing. We can’t deny the changes she experienced. She had five years to mull things over, maybe she realized she made a mistake.”

Edelgard looked over the estimates again and sighed, “Then I see no choice but to make her regret it. We burn the field at the center, trying to take out as many of them as possible in the process. We cut them off and hope that stops them from advancing any further west.”

“We should just light it now and regroup at Fort Merceus,” argued Hubert. They would be safer there, he did not want to meet their enemies on an open field. He also didn’t want to listen to people burn alive. Contrary to popular rumor, the screams of the dying was not his favorite music (he preferred a good requiem, but no one really cared).

“No, we need to draw them into the conflagration, we need someone to act as bait,” said Edelgard somberly.

“Then I’ll do it,” said Hubert without room for argument. He knew how badly their enemies wanted to kill him; they’d gotten close but he kept coming back just to spite them. Better him on the pyre than someone he cared about.

“I need you, you’re our tactician, I can’t risk losing you,” said Edelgard. Hubert was ashamed by how much his heart swelled at hearing her profess how important he was to her.

Hubert closed his eyes. This was not a choice he wanted to make. Edelgard looked at the options, “We’ll get someone to volunteer.”

***

 _Your name means brave, start acting like it._ Bernie opened up her eyes and knit her eyebrows together. “I volunteer.” She pumped her fist in the air as if to show her resolve.

Too bad no one heard her. Everyone was arguing about how dumb this plan was, how dangerous. Even Hubert didn’t look convinced by the Emperor’s will, which was basically unheard of. Ferdinand and Petra were arguing about which of them was better suited to the task, Dorothea was shouting about none of them having the range to pull this off. Bernie had a long bow. Bernie had the range!

“I’ll do it,” said Bernadetta again, trying to find her voice above all the noise.

Caspar was loudly saying this was Bergliez land, so a Bergliez should hold it. Linhardt was saying that none of them should be anywhere near this. Edelgard was threatening to draw straws and call it a day.

“I said I’ll do it!” Bernie screamed at the top of her lungs.

Everyone got quiet and stared at her. Edelgard looked like Bernadetta had suggested they all skinny dip at the sauna, “No. Next.”

“Wha-” Bernie stammered. “Wait a second, don’t write me off! I’ve been fighting in this war for five years too!”

“Bernadetta, you are like being a little rabbit, we are needing a hunter,” said Petra as she chopped her hand in Bernie’s direction.

Ferdinand shook his head, “We need someone who is excellent at dodging.”

“We need someone who could drop a meteor on their asses,” threatened Dorothea as she cracked her knuckles in a threatening manner.

Bernadetta puffed her cheeks and put her hands on her hips, “Why aren’t you taking me seriously!”

“You’re too tiny,” tried Hubert as he loomed over her.

“I think you mean hard to target!” challenged Bernadetta.

“You’re just not strong enough,” said Caspar, not in a mean way, but as if stating the obvious.

Bernie pointed to herself with confidence, “Who would you want to come after? Scary knife wielding Petra? Crazy eyed Dorothea? Javelin tossing Ferdie? Punchy Caspar? No! You want to set out to catch the scared little rabbit! If I was choosing anyone here to fight, I’d definitely choose me because I look like I’ll lose!”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” asked Linhardt slowly in disbelief.

Edelgard folded her arms, “It’s going to be really scary. What if you run away too soon?”

“Uh, well, uh,” said Bernie. Damn, that was a good point. “Uh! Put Hubert right behind me!”

“Excuse me?” Oh man, his voice was extra threatening today!

“Yeah, put Hubert and Petra near me, and I’ll be way too afraid to run away,” said Bernadetta as bravely as possible. “I’m most afraid of them!” And Edelgard, but no reason to call out the Emperor when she was giving Bernie a look like that, yikes!

Petra looked offended, “Why are you being afraid of me?”

“Because you act like you’re going to hunt me!” admitted Bernadetta in a small scream. It was still a terrifying memory from school, Petra calling her prey!

If there was going to be any more arguing it was cut off with the sounding of a horn. Their enemies were here, and there was no time to change the plan.

***

Hubert bent over the incendiary device that would set the big central hill ablaze, “When you abandon your position, you need to hit this, to set off the trap.”

Bernadetta nodded, “Sounds easy!”

“I appreciate your optimism,” said Hubert dryly. Today wasn’t going to be easy, it was probably going to be the most difficult battle of the war. If they lost this, they were going to have to go cower in Enbarr and wait out the end with no food.

Bernadetta ran to the ballista and readied herself. She turned back to Hubert with a thumbs up. Well, this was not how he pictured the plan getting carried out but apparently this was what was happening. Hubert positioned himself near the north west corner of the platform to handle the kingdom forces, while Petra had the southwest corner to defend from the Alliance.

The ragtag Golden Deers managed to look organized and ready for once. The Blue Lions were massing beyond the stream, ready to cross. _Please go after the Alliance, please go after the Alliance_ , thought Hubert desperately at the Kingdom’s forces.

Everyone was here. Well, almost everyone. Hubert’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the professor stepping towards the front. The unusual green of her hair was impossible to miss, and her sword was alive with energy. She was leading the Kingdom forces, and Dimitri was nowhere to be seen. Hubert thought that ought to make him happy but all he felt was a growing dread.

What followed was more or less a blur. Hubert was stretched between the platform and the western Bridge where Felix was now trying to cross with Sylvain. If they broke through it was an easy jaunt down to the Emperor. Not happening. He strayed in their direction to make sure they got no further.

They were two crested warriors with relics. Hubert was just a hopeful idiot in black armor. _Dark spikes please work_ — His spell was not enough to kill them, but enough to make them retreat. Just as Hubert was feeling confident, there was a terrible sound and familiar shrieking. Hubert turned in horror to see the central hill was already set ablaze and that Bernadetta was right in the middle of it.

***

Things happened really fast. Petra was being driven back and so Bernadetta did the only thing she could think of. She shot at the soldier trying to kill her friend. Unfortunately that soldier happened to be next to the trigger for the trap. Well, you really fucked up big this time Bernie.

“Wish I could’ve at least died at home!” she yelled at the sky. Thanks a lot Sothis! Fuck! This was what bravery got her! A one way ticket to hell…Bernie was going to burn.

If she was composing a swan song right now it’d be about how she was going to die a roast goose! Bernadetta cursed Dorothea for suggesting this purple mini dress as the flames tried to lick at her legs. “I didn’t want to die on this big stupid field!”

“You will not be dying today!” yelled Petra triumphantly. The assassin dodged and darted burning wood as she sprinted onto the platform.

“Petra! No! I shot that guy so you wouldn’t die!” Bernadetta coughed out her words as the smoke got thick. Petra wore less clothes than her! She was even worse off in this mess. Oh no now they were both going to die, with massive burns all over them.

Petra seemed very determined as she picked Bernie up, “See I am saving you!” She did not sound particularly convinced as she looked for the least painful path to take. The line of flames blocked them from getting to the west and back to their friends. The flames to the north weren’t quite as bad, but there were a bunch of scary looking Blue Lions up there! The flames to the southeast looked pretty bad too, and Bernie could hear Lysithea’s laughter warning them not to go that way — gosh what was with mages and their terrifying cackles?

Petra’s expression started to fall. “I, I am thinking we are needing help.” It sounded like it wounded her pride to admit, even more so as she started yelling for “Help!” Bernie added in her panicked voice as the two women began to beg to be saved. The Blue Lions were merciful right? Maybe they weren’t all ‘ _kill them all_ ’ like their king!

Bernadetta tried not to whimper. Bernie had to be brave. They were coughing as the flames got closer. Well, maybe they would pass out before they started to roast up! Silver linings Bernie, silver linings. The smoke was making it hard to see, and hard to breathe. Well, this was it, Bernie was ready to embrace the end. Petra put her down so they could huddle low to the ground where the smoke wasn’t as bad.

There was a blinding flash of green light and Bernadetta felt a strong arm wrap around her followed by some reluctant cursing. It was Hubert’s voice, “Lin, warp us now!” Nothing happened.

***

“Fuck!” yelled Hubert as he watched Linhardt being pushed back by Ingrid on her Pegasus. So much for warping in and rescuing out, Lin was way too out of range to help with that now. Hubert had Bernadetta under one arm and Petra under the other, and both women were coughing and in rough shape. He glanced around realizing he was now going to have to carry them out of there. This was going to be painful to say the least. Hubert tried not to think about how he was basically in a big metal suit that was going to cook him to death.

Bernie grimaced, “The best path is right into the Kingdoms troops but they’re going to kill us all!”

“If we don’t go then we’ll burn together,” hissed Hubert. Burning alive was not a good way to go. It wasn’t quick and it was far from painless. This was torture. This is why he hated Edelgard’s ‘use bait’ plan.

“Are you knowing a spell or something, like rainy day!” suggested Petra with bright optimism. Hubert groaned, that was not a spell, not in this universe anyway.

“You want me to quench the flames?” demanded Hubert with irritation. “What am I going to use, your blood?” He decided that he’d just press north and they could try to fight their way out of whatever they landed in.

This wasn’t strategic. This was the naive little boy that still lived inside him dreaming of being a hero even though he knew he laughed and looked like a villain. A naive little boy that was going to die with the man he’d become if they didn’t move any faster!

There was a warm embrace, not of flames, but of someone using a Rescue spell. Hubert never thought he’d be so happy to see grass as he tumbled forward at the feet of his savior. He looked up and found his excitement was short lived. It wasn’t Linhardt. It wasn’t even Marianne. It was Flayn and Mercedes, with a whole bunch of pissed off Blue Lions behind them.

***

“Well on the bright side, we are not dead yet,” said Petra cheerfully. The three of them were restrained against a horse hitching post. The battle had ended in a draw more or less, and the unlucky Adrestian generals found themselves now in a hostile war camp to the north of Gronder.

“Probably because they’re going to interrogate us,” sighed Hubert as he tipped his head back. He had never pictured himself as someone who might be taken prisoner, he’d always fancied himself more of the ‘die while taking as many with him as possible’ type. They’d stripped him out of his impressive armor and now he was just here exposed for what he truly was: a middling knight and a clearly inept tactician.

“Well I will not be telling them anything,” said Petra with resolve.

“They’re probably not interested in you,” Hubert assured her. No. If anyone was going to get tortured for information it would be him.

“I am sorry for not getting Bernadetta off of the platform,” said Petra quietly.

“It wasn’t a good plan from the start,” said Hubert. “You did the right thing.” Hubert took a deep breath and wondered how the kingdom forces were going to torture them. He noted that Bernadetta had said nothing at all since they’d been tied up. He nudged her with his shoulder, “Are you alright?”

Bernadetta made no sound and stared straight ahead. Petra and Hubert exchanged concerned glances and then both tried to squeeze her from either side in the best approximation of a hug they could manage in their present tied up state.

Eventually they were put into a makeshift prisoner of war camp, a sort of hastily constructed wood cell. They were still tied up, but they now knew they were not the only poor assholes that had gotten captured. Hilda and Lysithea had gotten picked up too.

“Hubie, I never thought I’d be glad to see you,” laughed Hilda as a form of greeting.

“Oh?” Hubert braced himself for whatever dumb thing she was going to say.

“Yeah! If anyone’s getting executed first, it’s definitely you!”

“Shut the fuck up Hilda,” hissed Lysithea. “If you tell me we’re getting executed one more time—”

Beside Hubert, he could feel Bernadetta getting tense. She still had not spoken. Hubert knew something was deeply wrong with her, but he didn’t know how to fix it.

***

Byleth sat by Dimitri and sighed. He was still being delusional, but now he was speaking, for better or worse. “Execute the prisoners.”

Byleth held up her hand to let the others know they would definitely not be executing the prisoners, “Dimitri, these are your old classmates.”

“Claude’s lazy right hand and the poisonous bastard will of that woman? Kill them,” said Dimitri. His eyes traced up to stare at her, “As for the others, they made their choice to fight this war. They can all die.”

Byleth took a deep breath, “People aren’t always what they appear on the surface Dimitri. Our first impressions are not always right.”

Dimitri said nothing as he sat and stared in the direction of Fort Merceus where the remnants of the Adrestian army were cowering. Who knew where the Alliance was, who cared? Byleth knew Dimitri reserved all his hate for one person, the one person Byleth knew she needed to save. She just needed to figure out how.

***

It had been three days. They got water and their burns were treated. There was no food.

“Ah, well, Faerghean food might violate some torture treatise!” suggested Hilda unhelpfully.

Hubert would eat whatever bad Faerghus food was thrown at him. He’d never eaten so much in his life before starting to train to be a dark knight, and now that he’d gotten used to such calorie heavy days he was starving. Was this how Raphael felt all the time?

They had only seen a few of their captors: Mercedes, Sylvain, Ingrid. Hubert wondered if any of the Blue Lions had been captured, and how they were being treated. He wondered if it was possible there might be a prisoner exchange. That was the hope that kept him going.

It was the middle of the night when they came for him. Hubert tried not to make too much noise as he was drug out of the cell, he did not want to wake the others. There was no need to panic them if the executions were beginning. Hilda was right, they were definitely killing him first.

Sylvain and Ingrid each had one of his arms, and their relics in their free hands. Hubert tried not too look up at the glowing weapons. He did not care for relics at all after watching Miklan transform into a demonic beast all those years ago. He supposed he had a lot in common with Sylvain’s older brother: eldest crestless son of a house, runaways, nasty scars on their faces. Hubert wondered if Miklan had been disfigured by his father or if his giant face wound had come later when he was out in the wilds trying to survive in a world that didn’t want him.

Dimitri came hulking through the darkness with his own great relic in hand. The weapons deeply unsettled Hubert: glowing, twitching, essentially alive.

“I’d ask your last words, but I know you are only capable of lies,” proclaimed Dimitri.

What would he say? That he loved his emperor with all his heart? That was probably not what his captors wished to hear, but that was all he could think about as he faced his doom.

“Wait!” The professor was running towards him with the sword of the creator. Oh no, maybe they were all going to take slice out of him. Someone else was with her, great, _Shamir_. She always threatened to kill him, now she was finally going to see it through. Hubert shut his eyes and wished they’d stop drawing this out.


	12. A Better Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand's letter sucks, so Hubert steps in

**1186**

“Bernadetta is coming to tea with my parents,” proclaimed Ferdinand with elation. The Prime Minster looked at ease for the first time in a while.

“Wonderful,” said Hubert as he read over the newspaper. Enbarr was mercifully quiet as it got colder out. Riots and rebellions were always a spring and summer worry, no one liked being out protesting in the gloom and doom of late fall and early winter.

“I am taking her to the opera tonight, it is a pity that Dorothea is on tour, but I heard Manuela is reclaiming the stage and just had to see for myself,”

“Sounds fun,” said Hubert unenthusiastically. Well at least with Bernadetta here, Ferdinand would stop asking Hubert to the opera.

“Yes, I thought it was a perfectly appropriate date,” said Ferdinand.

 _Date_. Hubert lowered his newspaper, “You are taking Bernadetta on a date?” Ferdinand nodded. Hubert glared, “Why? Why not just say you’re taking a friend out?”

“Well the most convincing kind of fake relationship is one that feels real,” said Ferdinand with confidence. “It always helps if one party does not know it’s fake.”

“Ferdinand von Aegir, no,” snapped Hubert with frustration. “She’s got a big crush on you! You’re going to hurt her, you may even lose your friendship with her.”

Ferdinand blanched, “I’ll explain everything to her,” he paused, “After tea with my parents.” Hubert glowered and Ferdinand yelped, “Immediately after tea with my parents! It'll only be a week, how attached can she get?"

“So you won’t explain this to her, and yet you expect her to go along with how desperately in love with her you are all of a sudden?”

“Ah,” said Ferdinand uneasily. “I’m working on what I’ll say. I have been writing it down in a letter.” Ferdinand held up a piece of paper, and Hubert squinted at the flourishing script.

“Give me that,” growled Hubert as he plucked it away to scan the paper. “Dear Bernie, when I think of you I think of maintaining my armor collection, Ferdinand, this is awful. I'd stop fake dating you in heartbeat if you passed me this." 

“Well it is hard to fake romantic feelings,” whispered Ferdinand as he blushed. “But when I think of her I do think of my armor collection! She and I bonded over that when she was training to be a bow knight. I taught her all about proper care of her plate. She also has many collections, she taught me some new cataloging schemes. It was very nice!”

“Yes, nothing makes my heart beat faster than being compared to a pile of scrap metal,” sighed Hubert.

“You don’t have a heart,” hissed Ferdinand as he scrambled to steal his lame note back. “You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”

“I have one,” teased Hubert.

“You are gross,” said Ferdinand as he shook his head. “Well, I’ll think of something better, maybe.”

“Come now Ferdinand, you give rousing speeches all the time, surely this is nothing to you,” challenged Hubert. He liked to needle Ferdinand like this, just to push him to be better than he was, which was a hard task because he was pretty good. Sometimes he just needed a push to go from great to brilliant.

“Oh if it’s so easy why don’t you do it?” demanded Ferdinand.

“Fine, challenge accepted,” said Hubert.

Ferdinand was flustered, “Excuse me? You seriously think you can do better?”

“I know I can,” said Hubert as they fell into their usual competitive games. They were friends now, unlike in school, but some things never really changed between people. They would always be one-upping each other for the rest of their lives.

“Fine, if your letter is any good I’ll use it,” snapped Ferdinand. Challenge accepted indeed.

***

Hubert stared at his scribble riddled paper. Fine Ferdie, this was hard and likely ill advised. Why was he even helping to prop up this farce? Was it just a desire to get his own confusing feelings for Bernadetta off of his chest? He was just happy to see her so happy, even if he knew it was fake. 

> _~~Dear Ms. Von Varley,~~ _
> 
> _~~Dearest Bernadetta~~ _
> 
> _Dear Bernadetta,_
> 
> _~~Words cannot express~~ _
> 
> _Words do not do justice to the joy I feel that you are now in Enbarr. The past year has been a busy blur as we all adjust to our lives as civilians instead of soldiers. Though I do not miss the war I miss the camaraderie and fierce friendships I forged on the battlefield, and tempered in the flames of war_

He paused, maybe bringing up burning on a battlefield was in poor taste. He crossed that bit out and tried not to focus on triggering any negative emotions tied to fighting and being held prisoner.

> _I have missed you, not just your absence over the last year but the closeness we once shared. I miss the quiet pleasure of carrying out my business in your presence. I miss the joy of listening to you describe a new plant that has grown up in the greenhouse. I miss the calm nights spent watching you create beautiful scenes out of thread. I miss the subtle hope that once filled my heart that you and I could someday be something more than friends._

He swallowed uneasily as he thought about how he’d felt that day in the threshold of her room. He’d been all psyched up to kiss her, to finally breathe life into his desires, and he’d quickly fled in defeat. At the first sign she was not interested he had dropped it rather than actually ask her how she felt, or might feel some day.

He had been enamored, enchanted, but not in love. They had not gotten close enough for him to have the same depths of affection for Bernadetta that he held for Edelgard, but she had been someone he felt he could be in love with in time. Bernadetta was someone who might reciprocate these romantic yearnings, which he now understood Edelgard would never do.

Instead of trying with Bernadetta, he’d let himself get caught up in Shamir even when it became clear she wasn’t going to love him in the way he wanted. Sometimes the things Shamir did and said made him hate himself for being so under her spell. That wasn’t Shamir’s fault, that’s how she was, it was him who wasn’t right or happy, and yet he’d stayed.

> _I never spoke to you of how I felt for you during the war. I was too afraid of you not returning my feelings, for I am no stranger to love unreturned. I did not think you could be interested, but upon reflection I realize I never asked. Now I wish I had._

Hubert rubbed his brow. This was pointless. Bernadetta still _eeked_ and _ahhed_ at his appearance. How could that form the foundation of a relationship? Oh well, it was just a letter from Ferdinand, why hold back? She’d never know it was his.

He dove in and wrote his feelings out on a fresh piece of parchment, taking care to disguise his handwriting and do his best forgery of Ferdinand’s foolishly fancy scrawl. He had enough missives and decrees from the Prime Minister for reference and faking documents was a part of his job at the worst of times. He added in some dramatic pose to make it sing in Ferdinand’s voice.

> _Dearest Bernadetta,_
> 
> _Words fail to describe how I have missed you. Not just in the past year, but a loss that began earlier when I foolishly decided that we were not right for each other and pushed myself away from you. We once enjoyed the quiet pleasure of each others company. These days, the silence of your absence cuts through me like a knife. Once I listened enraptured to your words, on plants, on places, on all the things you thought mundane that I found so captivating; now, there is only emptiness and solitude in its place. I miss watching your delicate fingers dreaming up scenes from thread, I miss the gentle brush strokes of your paintings that took me far away from the brutality of war and into the serene depths of your mind. I have most missed the pleasure of bringing a smile to your lips._
> 
> _To say I was in love with you during the war would be unfair and untrue. So I will say that I was in hope with you instead. In you I saw the blossoming potential for a romance between two kindred spirits. Yet I was distracted and hung up upon feelings left unreturned from others. These made me cautious and afraid to express my desires towards you, for how could you possibly want me back? I lacked the courage to get to know you better then. I lacked the courage to share my heart. Now that the war is done and we have our lives ahead of us, I finally find the bravery to ask: would you enjoy a life spent with me? And do not worry if you do not have an answer yet, I need only know if you are willing to take the chance to find out._

A counterfeit letter full of real feelings. Hubert swallowed uneasily and wondered if he ought not just rip it to shreds. He left the signature area blank for Ferdinand to claim the credit.

He delivered the ‘fake’ letter the next day. Ferdinand’s lips were pursed. Hubert frowned, “What, is it too much?”

“No, it is too good, where did you steal this from?” demanded Ferdinand.

“You really think so?”

“Goddess, it’s dripping with feeling, what did you torture a poet to draft this up?” Ferdinand set the letter down to clap. “I did not think you were capable of such, sappiness.”

Hubert rolled his eyes, “Just because you’ve cornered the market on drama does not mean the rest of us do not have our moments. Perhaps I was just feeling inspired.”

“Ah so even you are not immune to the infectious romance of planning a wedding,” teased Ferdinand as he signed his name to Hubert’s confession.

“This wedding fills me with many emotions, rage, stress, murder—”

“Murder is not an emotion,”

“Not with that attitude,” winked Hubert as he got back to his regularly scheduled business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes Hubie, she'll never find out it was from you...


	13. Gronder Field, pt 2.

**Near the end of the war, Gronder Field**

Her father’s voice in her head was louder than ever. _This is your fault. This is your fault. This is what happens when you don’t listen to me._

Bernadetta tried to play Silence. It was hard but if she just stayed perfectly still and silent maybe the Blue Lions wouldn’t come kill them. The others didn’t know how to play Silence, and she couldn’t tell them. The words wouldn’t come and she doubted they’d listen anyway. Hilda never shut up. Lysithea cursed a lot. Petra sounded very brave as she talked about escaping. Hubert just kept asking Bernie if she was okay.

She was not okay. _This is your fault. This is what you volunteered for. Feeling brave now? You silly coward, should have stayed in your room._

She was afraid to sleep. _This is your fault, and your mother’s for sending you to war. She has killed you._

She was afraid to move. _This is your fault. You should have died on that pyre. Should have died in that field._

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and Bernadetta finally made a noise. A quiet sob in the night. _You’ve done it now, now the creatures are coming to get you._

Only they didn’t take her, they took Hubert as punishment for breaking her Silence.

***

“Dimitri! No!” begged Byleth as she rushed forward to where Hubert was about to be executed. “We need him alive.”

That did elicit a pause. Dimitri sneered, “He’s an animal, unable to think, only able to follow orders. When a dog is rabid, it must be put down.” Felix could be heard from behind the professor, scoffing at the irony of his King's words. 

This wasn’t the first time someone had compared Hubert to an animal, but it was the first time it had felt so much like a final judgment. Hubert shut his eyes rather than look at the twitching relic in the King’s hand.

“That’s not true,” said Shamir from behind the professor. “He thinks for himself. I’ve watched him disobeys direct commands from his Emperor.”

 _Great_ , thought Hubert. _Please tell them how I executed prisoners that Edelgard ordered be spared, just great. They'll definitely let me go now._

“Dimitri, if you kill him, you know they’ll kill Dedue,” said the professor as she quietly inserted herself between Hubert and the King. “We need to negotiate with them or you will lose him.”

“He is already lost,” whispered Dimitri. Hubert could feel both Sylvain and Ingrid tensing up on either side of him at the sentiment.

“No,” promised Byleth as she gently guided the shaft of his relic down. “No one is lost as long as they’re alive.”

Hubert tried not shake as Shamir led him back to the cell while Dimitri and the professor continued to talk. “You’re welcome Vestra,” the mercenary said snidely.

“So Dedue was captured,” whispered Hubert. That would be a fair trade, him for Dedue, but what would become of the others? “Was anyone else taken?”

“Cyril, Ashe, and Alois,” said Shamir. She almost smirked at the last one. “Dedue and Ashe are definitely with the Adrestians. I’m hoping Cyril is with the Alliance.” No hopes for poor Alois? Well, Shamir always was stone cold and hated puns.

Shamir listened to his stomach growling and sighed, “Your emperor is demanding negotiations, the professor just has to convince this crazy ass king to meet with her.”

That would be a monumental task to say the least. Hubert shut his eyes, “You don’t hold much regard for your new employer.”

“I hold my employer in the highest regard,” promised Shamir. “I’ve decided I only work for myself now.” She paused and grinned, “Now that this war’s over you should consider doing the same. I could always use the help.”

“This war’s not over,” whispered Hubert.

Shamir shook her head, “I’ve been to war before, trust me when I tell you a fight is over.”

***

Hubert came back to the cell. The creatures did not kill him! Bernadetta broke her Silence to cry some more, but for once they were tears of relief and not fear. No one else was pulled from the cell. Maybe, maybe Silence didn’t make a difference.

“Professor,” whispered Hubert weakly when Byleth finally was able to come by, “Please, can you untie Bernadetta? She’s, she’s not well. She’s barely moved or spoken in days.”

Bernadetta tensed and froze as her restraints were loosened and the professor helped her up, “Come on Bernie, let’s go chat.”

In the safety of the professor’s tent Bernadetta was offered food, which she guiltily ate up even though she knew the others weren’t getting any. She was just so very hungry that she couldn’t stop herself.

“You must hate us so much,” whispered Bernie as she finally looked up at her old teacher.

Byleth frowned slightly, “Hate you? No.” She helped herself to some of the snacks before them, “No, seeing you all has given me a lot of hope.”

“W-why?” Bernie couldn’t understand.

“You’re out of your room,” said Byleth cheerfully. “You were in the middle of very large and scary battle, and you were so brave.” Byleth leaned forward and cupped Bernadetta’s hands in her own, “You’ve helped convince me that people can always change for the better, and that we need to look deeper to see who people are.”

“I don’t think I’ve shown you anything,” whispered Bernadetta.

Byleth looked at her with her large pale green eyes, “At Gronder, I saw someone who used to be very reluctant to do anything stand up and take the lead, I saw someone filled with pride finally ask for help, and I saw someone filled with loyalty for only one person come to have love for many,” said Byleth carefully. “You’ve all come so very far since I met you at Garreg Mach. I’m not angry, I’m proud.”

Bernadetta let out a surprised sob at the words. Maybe their professor would always be their professor no matter whose flag she stood by.

“I can’t believe it’s been five years since I was dragged out of my house in the middle of the night,” whispered Bernadetta. She had been sure she was going to die then. Now she looked at that girl and barely recognized her.

“Do you want to go back?”

“No,” whispered Bernadetta. “If you asked me that five years ago, I’d have said the opposite.” She swallowed uneasily. She had been so mad at her mom then, now she missed her terribly. She could do without seeing her father again but that was a worry for later. She still had to get out of this war alive. “I-I have friends now. And they’re my second home. Back then, I never dreamed a day like this might come.” Bernadetta laughed softly, “Maybe the battlefield has just dulled my senses, but I’m much better with strangers and new places now, I don’t panic nearly as much as before.”

“You were very quiet in the cell,” said Byleth with a concerned look on her face.

Bernadetta shut her eyes, “I don’t like being tied up, it reminds me of when I was younger. My father would leave me tied to a chair for hours to teach me to behave.”

Byleth’s hands rubbed along Bernie’s arms to comfort her, “Have you told anyone about this?”

Bernadetta shook her head. How could she tell anyone something like that? It was so terrible, so dark, so shameful that she’d never overcome it. But, she’d just told the professor, maybe she could find the courage to tell others.

Bernadetta shifted the subject to the question that was keeping her awake all night, “Are we going to be executed?”

Byleth shook her head, “No. I won’t let that happen. I promise.”

Bernadetta had no choice but to cling to that hope.

***

They finally got some food and it was about as good as anyone thought Faerghus cuisine would be, but they ate it all the same. Their restraints were relaxed, although Hubert and Lysithea didn’t get their hands free because of the danger they might cast. To accommodate this Bernadetta patiently spoon fed Hubert, and Hilda loudly pretended Lysithea was a little baby. The five prisoners were pretty much beyond embarrassment with each other at this point given the latrine situation in their cell. They slept in a big pile at night because it was cold, and because they didn’t want anyone to be taken in secret like Hubert had been.

Petra braided Hilda and Lysithea’s long flowing locks. Petra braided Bernie’s short hair, and then even did Hubert’s bangs because captivity was extremely boring. “Hubert where are you getting this scar from?” She rubbed her thumb gently across the ridged skin near his eye that generally stayed safely hidden away.

Bernadetta braved a look and found that Hubert looked not as scary so exposed. He looked as defeated as the rest of them sitting on the ground and waiting for something, anything, to change. He sighed, “My father gave me that.”

“Your father did this to you?” Petra was clearly having trouble understanding. Her father had died a war hero beloved by his children and his people.

“I was nine, I used magic in the palace, so my father used magic on me,” said Hubert calmly. “Later, I used that same spell when I executed him.”

Lysithea grunted with approval for such revenge from her spot. Hilda and Petra exchanged looks, their fathers were kind. Bernadetta wondered to herself if she could bring herself to kill her father, and if she even wanted his blood on her hands. A part of her wanted him dead, but a bigger part of her was glad he was alive and under house arrest. Dead people couldn’t suffer. For the first time in a long time she didn’t hear her father’s voice in her head. Maybe he was finally scared of her and the realization she’d had.

Petra taught them all some Brigid dances, although Lysithea and Hubert had trouble with the arm motions. Bernadetta found herself smiling for the first time since they’d been captured as she watched them foolishly spin around. Bernie was amazed at Petra’s high morale, “How are you handling this so well?”

“I was being a prisoner for many years, I learned many ways to cope,” said Petra as she moved and twirled. “People back then were treating me like a scared little animal, so I had to find ways to make myself brave.”

“You, scared! But you’re so, so,” started Bernadetta in shock.

Petra smiled and bowed as part of her dance, “I was finding my confidence thanks to my friends.” She smiled and kissed the top of Bernadetta’s head, “Just like you!”

“Like, me?” Bernie blustered.

“You are not scared little prey like back at school,” promised Petra. She wiggled her fingers like claws, “You are a big scary bear! A total hunter.”

“Maybe just a regular sized scary bear,” joked Hubert as he stretched his arms and made himself look impossibly tall next to the tiny women.

“No one’s ever called me scary before!” protested Bernie.

“Well, that’s because no one who faces you on the field of battle survives to tell you how frightening you are,” suggested Hubert with a chuckle. For the first time in a long time Bernadetta found his laugh did not strike fear into her quite as badly. She was too busy wondering if anyone found her laughs, or her screams, just as terrifying out on the battlefield.

In the middle of the eighth night of their captivity they were woken from sleep. Above them bright lights streaked west across the sky and then the ground began to rumble. Petra, Bernadetta and Hubert huddled together in their cell as they watched and wondered what it meant. In the morning it was reported that Fort Merceus had fallen. The death toll wasn’t clear, but the Adrestian army was effectively out of the war. For the first time since being captured, Bernadetta was selfishly grateful she wasn’t with the rest of the Black Eagles.

***

The remnants of the Adrestian forces staggered back to Gronder field to accept terms of their surrender. The Alliance was looking a little bit better, but not by much. The Kingdom and Church were stronger, but not enough to firmly finish things without a whole lot of bloodshed. The hostages taken from each side were traded and returned to their friends. Everyone had been fairly beat up in the Pillars of Light attack, but luckily no one from the strike force was mortally wounded. Hubert had the unenviable task of routing through the wreckage to see if his contingency plans had survived. They were singed around the edges, but the core of the plan had survived. He wasted no time in bringing it to Edelgard.

“Hubert,” said Edelgard with a wash of relief in her voice as they were privately reunited in the emperor’s tent.

“I’m sorry I got captured,” whispered Hubert with his eyes downcast.

To his shock Edelgard hugged him close. Years of forced distance and formality seemed to evaporate as he, for the first time in years, permitted himself to hug her back. “What matters is you’re back, and we’re together,” the Emperor said as her face buried into his chest. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you.”

Hubert didn’t have words to describe how good it felt to hear her express such feelings. He’d almost died, he’d decided no more secrets after that. He softly kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he murmured into her hair because it was true, and it felt like the right moment to finally tell her.

“What?” Edelgard was pulling back from the hug, to his horror. “R-romantically?”

Hubert swallowed uneasily as he felt her warmth pulling away, “Is it not obvious?”

Edelgard looked at him in shock. Apparently it was not obvious. “Hubert, I, this is a surprise.”

He felt like a ship in the doldrums, with no wind in his sails, “I take it you do not feel even remotely the same.”

“Hubert, I love you, you are my friend, but, to be, _together_ ,” she said as she nervously tucked a loop of hair back behind her ear. She looked more flustered than flattered. “I, I must go finish the surrender negotiations.”

“I should come with you, as your vassal,” whispered Hubert. He was dejected by the lack of reciprocation for his deep feelings, but he still had a job to do. A little voice inside him sighed, _“You’ve always known this would end this way.”_

“No,” said Edelgard firmly. “This is between Dimitri, Claude, Byleth, and me.” She looked up at him, “Go, go to the others, they’ll be glad to see you back unharmed I’m sure.” She practically ran from him, leaving him standing alone in the tent. He’d first fallen in love with her in 1166 as a little boy forced to watch over a little girl. He’d felt that love break him in 1171 when she was taken away. His heart wept bitter tears in 1174 when she was returned because it would have been best if they were never reunited. His emperor twisted him up without knowing, and when all those feelings were finally unwound he was given the truth: she did not feel the same.

***

No one outside that tent was privy to the conversations that happened as the surrender was hammered out. Byleth represented the church, which pissed Rhea off to no end. This was further exacerbated when the four came out after a long negotiation that spanned many days and announced what they were going to do.

Byleth would marry Dimitri and continue to help him heal. She was sure with the right help, he could get better. In a strange way, the terrible tragedy of Fort Merceus had been a gift that opened Dimitri’s eyes to the forces that were far beyond Edelgard’s control meddling in this war and the terrible things that had befallen his own family.

Much had been revealed in that secretive meeting: the experimentation that Rhea had used to ultimately create Byleth, the fates of the Hresvelg children, the tight grip of the Agarthans across the continent including their meddling in so many tragedies, and the information Claude had dug up on the ten elites. It was clear everything was a whole lot more complicated than it appeared on the surface, and that the lords were stronger together than fighting individually for justice and revenge.

Edelgard would marry Claude in time, but first together they would take out those that slithered in the dark now that everyone knew what had truly happened to Fort Merceus. Adrestia lost lands to the north to the Kingdom, they lost territories along the east to the Alliance, but there would be no more war.

No one really had a chance to celebrate. Rhea lost her mind over the fact that all these obstinate lords were allowed to live. Rhea transformed and decided to fly to Enbarr to end things on her terms. As a test of the new peace, the three lords led their armies to Enbarr with haste and Byleth assumed control of the knights of Seiros. Together, they took back Enbarr from the dragon’s jaws. Byleth assumed control of the church and Fodlan woke to a new dawn.

***

The Black Eagles all vowed to meet again in approximately a year for their professor’s wedding. Petra went home to rule Brigid. Caspar went home to help rebuild the destroyed Bergliez lands. Linhardt went home to be alone and recharge.

Hubert and Dorothea looked at the wreckage of Enbarr, their home, and decided a serious vacation was in order. Hubert knew he was being selfish, but he really just needed a break. He hadn’t had a day off in 20 years, and he’d been rejected by the woman he’d devoted his life to. Dorothea offered to let him crash her trip to visit Petra, and Hubert gratefully took her up on it.

Ferdinand and Edelgard looked at Adrestia and how it needed healing, and quietly put away themselves for the greater good. They set to cleaning up the big mess Rhea had left them. Claude assumed control of the fight against TWSTID, greatly aided by Hubert’s contingency plans.

Bernie also went home. She wanted to be far from big stupid battlefields and bows. She wanted to feel safe somewhere, and there was nowhere safer than her room. She’d had five straight years of too much social interaction and her poor little introverted heart needed a chance to relax and recuperate.

She wanted to see her mom again. She wanted to show her dad how much she didn’t care about what he had to say. She at least got one of those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, honestly, I'm not a huge fan of fix-its and 'everyone lives happily ever after' which if you've read my previous series, is pretty clear. I actually really like that this game does not give you that experience....however, I'd like to write some funny wedding competition drama between the Blue Lions, Golden Deer, and Black Eagles. So everyone's alive, and even if they don't get along, Edelgard can at least go to Dimitri's wedding without him freaking out and trying to kill her (maybe she'll get him a lame gift though). 
> 
> Could the lords really work things out? I don't know. I do know that in the Azure Moon route, Dimitri's abrupt change from Boar prince to not such a boar prince and the triggering event behind that shift gave me whiplash in the way it was presented. Could the threat of losing Dedue actually sway him to be better instead? Maybe. So in this story, Byleth is lifting Dimitri up and trying to show him the themes of Crimson Flower, that first impression aren't always right, which is also a theme of Hubert x Bernadetta's supports.


	14. The Proper Attire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard is suspicious that Ferdinand is 'courting' Bernie

**1186**

Bernadetta hummed as she wrapped her tape measure around Edelgard. The emperor was standing very straight and still but a smirk was slowly growing on her face, “What has you so simply elated?”

Bernie peeped at being caught. She sighed happily, “Oh it’s just things have been going well!” Honestly it was much better to be around all her friends than she expected. Somehow Hubert and Edelgard weren’t as scary now that the country wasn’t at war, and Ferdinand was actually reciprocating her feelings. It was like a dream come true.

She gulped as she looked at the next measurement, the bust. Edelgard looked nonplussed, “Don’t worry Bernadetta, I’m not shy. I get measured all the time by tailors.”

“Anyway,” said Bernie quickly as she took the measure, “Ferdinand took me to the opera, and he gave the most romantic letter—”

“Ferdinand gave you a _romantic_ letter?” Edelgard asked suspiciously.

“Yeah I really didn’t think he was interested but I can’t stop reading it over and over,” said Bernadetta with a dreamy sigh. No one had ever written her a love letter before, and this one was top notch. She got all warm and tingly thinking about it. “And he’s asked me to tea with his parents!”

“What?” Edelgard was bad at hiding her shock.

“I know! It’s moving so fast,” said Bernadetta nervously. The letter had indicated that Ferdie was nervous to get close to her during the war, but now that it was over he was finally doing it!

“Fast indeed,” said Edelgard with a perplexed expression.

“I’m just glad I have a date to the professor’s wedding, who knows where I would have been seated with such a late RSVP!” Knowing her luck it would be next to Seteth or something.

After the measures were done, the Emperor and Bernadetta sat at the worktable while Edelgard pulled her favorite sketches for Bernie’s appraisal. “I like this skirt, but with this bodice.” She then pulled up her favorite veil, “And I simply love the flower details on this, I was wondering if they could be incorporated into the dress, especially the train.”

Bernadetta stared and nodded at Edelgard’s fine taste. That was going to be a lot of embroidered flowers. Bernie gulped, this was going to take months! “I can pull this off! No problem.” Oh Bernie, this was going to be a lot of late nights to meet that deadline!

“I already purchased white silk for the outer material, but, I would appreciate any recommendations for how to do the underlinings,” said Edelgard.

“I’ll draft up a pattern, and make a muslin. We can do a fit test after the professor’s wedding,” said Bernadetta as she started mapping out the time line. This was going to be tight. “And I’ll get started on the flowers right away, maybe you could pick out your favorite colors for me to work from!”

“Well you know I love a nice red carnation, but I think maybe some lighter colors might suit a wedding dress, pastels and ivory I think,” said Edelgard as she started sorting through Bernadetta’s collection of embroidery floss. “Maybe with some beading.”

“Uh sure,” Bernadetta added some extra time to her time line. Damn Bernie, learn to say no!

There was a long silence that was becoming awkward. Bernadetta was anxious about disappointing the Emperor again. First Gronder, now a wedding dress! She tapped her pencil and watched the Emperor, “Um, Edelgard, are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?” Edelgard asked quickly.

“Well, I sort of messed up the whole Gronder field plan and got captured. If I hadn’t, then you might not have had to surrender—”

Edelgard made a _pfft_ sound, “Please Bernadetta, you had nothing to do with the surrender. I’m grateful you were captured because I don’t know if you, Petra, or Hubert would have survived the attack on Merceus. It was rather close for those of us that were there, Linhardt almost didn’t make it. That’s what made us have to surrender.” She sighed and squeezed Bernie’s hand, “I’m happy that we all survived this war, that the Agarthans were defeated, and that Rhea is no more. We might have lost in the history books, but I count it as a win.”

Bernadetta nodded gratefully with relief. She still had nightmares about Gronder field and the prison cell but they weren’t as frequent as when she first got home. “But, but now you have to marry Claude.”

Edelgard sighed mischievously, “I think there are far worse options.”

“Oh?” Bernie wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“I could have had to marry Dimitri!” laughed Edelgard. Her laughter faded, “Please, don’t repeat that to anyone.”

“You have my silence,” promised Bernie as she nodded. She paused hoping Edelgard was not too upset about the wedding, “But, really, are you actually alright with this?”

Edelgard shrugged, “I cannot say I know Claude very well. He’s difficult to get close to.” She sighed and smiled at Bernadetta, “Claude makes for a rather handsome husband, there’s no denying that, and our statuses are similar. It’s a very appropriate match.” She smiled sadly as she put a hand over Bernadetta’s, “I just can’t help but wonder what kind of romances I might have had if I was not marrying him.” Edelgard sighed and withdrew her hand, “It’s nice to have a female friend in the capital again. Ferdinand and Hubert are wonderful companions, but they lack certain sensibilities. I look forward to your stay, maybe we can get closer.”

“I’d like that too,” said Bernadetta. Yeah, they could be friends if embroidering all these flowers didn’t kill her first!

***

Hubert was up on a ladder in his office trying to reach a giant tome. It was way out of the way and clearly very old. He finally got it down and blew off some of the dust. This was the von Vestra family bible as it were, the guide to proper execution of rituals and ceremonies relating to the Imperial Household. Essentially a party planning how-to. Birthday celebrations, coronations, weddings, baby naming, the Vestras oversaw it all. The Imperial Household was vast and complicated and no detail was too small for a Vestra’s attention.

“I guess my father was married to his first wife almost 40 years ago,” said Edelgard as she looked at all the dust that had accumulated on the book. That would have been the last big Imperial Wedding, all of Ionius’ later consorts like her mother had much smaller celebrations.

“My grandfather must of planned it,” sighed Hubert. Grandfather von Vestra didn’t seem like the partying type, but it was apparently one of the best weddings of the Hresvelg line.

Edelgard smiled at him, “Who would guess you came from such a long line of wedding planners!”

“I believe the patriarchs took the credit but offloaded much of the work on their wives and daughters,” grumbled Hubert. “My family was much larger in the past, many hands make quick work.” If Hubert still didn’t have any family the next time a Hresvelg wedding rolled around, he was adopting some kids and telling them good luck because he couldn’t imagine doing this again for any potential offspring of Edelgard and Claude.

“Well you’re doing a good job, all things considered,” sighed Edelgard. Chiefly, the budget was tighter than a Nabatean asshole. However, Hubert was creative, and he was figuring out how to stretch very little to accommodate this five hundred person-ish guest list. Everyone who was anyone at any point in time was coming. Not to mention all the Almyran traditions Hubert was speed reading over and figuring out how to throw in.

Hilda was more harmful than helpful when it came to keeping costs low. She would be arriving soon to travel with them to Fhirdiad and they were supposed to do some walk through with Edelgard and Claude to make sure everything was to their liking. Hubert was having wedding-stress nightmares: dreams of vomiting floral arrangements, poisoned appetizers, the cake falling over, it all haunted him in his sleep.

“I think you should get a new suit for my wedding,” said Edelgard.

“My formal suit is fine,” said Hubert. It fit, what more did he need?

“You’re walking me down the aisle in front of all these people, you should look as sharp as possible,” argued Edelgard. “I’ll pay for it, consider it a thank you gift for all your hard work.”

“Fine, fine,” grumbled Hubert as he added a stop to his tailor onto his itinerary. “How’s the dress going?”

“Oh wonderful, Bernadetta and I met this morning, she told me some very interesting things,” said Edelgard. “Apparently Ferdinand is romancing her? Do you know anything about this?”

“Oh, he’s just trying to appease his parents,” said Hubert quickly. “A little rouse to throw them off.”

“Well I don’t think she knows that,” said Edelgard sharply. “She just seemed so elated by some letter he wrote her, and I didn’t want to ruin her mood!”

That caught Hubert’s attention, “Oh, a letter?”

“Yes, she said she was reading it over and over,” sighed Edelgard. “I hope Ferdinand knows what he’s doing. He’s never had a very clear head when it comes to romance, fake or real apparently.”

“I won’t let it get out of hand,” promised Hubert although his heart was fluttering at the prospect of Bernadetta cherishing his words. Although maybe it wasn’t the words, maybe it was more the thought they’d come from Ferdinand. Damn. He was distracted now, he wanted to spy on Bernadetta and learn more about how she felt about his letter. He wondered how he might casually ask her what she thought.

“What’s the state of the menu?” asked Edelgard as she shifted the conversation back to the monumental task at hand.

“I have narrowed down the caterer choices here in Enbarr,” said Hubert. “And Hilda promises she found a baker. She’s bringing potential cake designs for you and Claude to decide on before we all leave for Fhirdiad.” His mind kept swirling back to Bernadetta and how he could possibly salvage things.

“Don’t forget tea Hubert,” warned Edelgard. How could he forget tea? People were always shoving it in his face and demanding why he didn’t enjoy it.

“I would not dare, I have given that task to Ferdinand so that he cannot keep whining about how we won’t take his help,” Hubert assured the Emperor. Some help Ferdinand was. Why didn’t he just take Hubert’s advice and tell Bernadetta the truth from the start!


	15. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, Bernie heads home.

**1185, Immediately following the War**

**Fall**

Bernie’s stuff abandoned at Garreg Mach after the battle when they'd lost it came back to her in a big crate that had not been packed with care. Her mother helped her sort through the broken pots that had once contained plants that had not survived the journey, the arts and crafts that had been haphazardly thrown in, and the clothes tossed in without folding. She sighed as she looked at where some jars of paint had shattered and coated her favorite sweater.

“We can knit you some new sweaters,” said her mother. She gave Bernie’s bicep an encouraging squeeze, “You’re so strong now! You’re probably ripping through the arms of your old clothes.”

Bernie could not help but laugh at the thought. Her father however glared from the doorway, “No man wants such a muscular wife.”

The Countess snapped her head around to look at her husband, “Why? Because then he cannot overpower her as easily?”

The ex-Count made a disgruntled sound before walking away.

Bernadetta swallowed back her shock, “I-I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you stand up to him like that!”

The Countess sighed as she pulled out some more ruined clothes, “Well, it’s a lot easier to be brave when you have a host of soldiers around.” She got up and shut the door so there would be no more uninvited comments, “He sleeps in his room, I sleep in mine. We eat together when he’s not being annoying, which is not often.”

“Do you wish he was in prison like Duke von Aegir?”

The Countess smirked, “Well if he was in prison I wouldn’t get to rub it in his face how happy I am about his situation everyday.”

Bernie hadn’t thought about it like that. “Would you have been okay if he was executed?”

The Countess sighed, “I don’t like more death than necessary.” She held up a hand, “I mean, I wouldn’t have protested it but if that’s what was decided. But your father being under house arrest does come with certain benefits.”

“Such as?” Bernie was having trouble coming up with anything.

“A lot of young horny soldiers in peak physical condition,” teased the Countess.

Bernadetta got bright red, “Mom!”

The Countess bit her lip, “What? Living well is the best revenge!”

Bernie and her mother knit new sweaters, they sewed some new clothes. Bernadetta did notice all the very attractive young men about the property but didn’t fancy the idea of hooking up with someone just out of the blue. That wasn't really her thing, she preferred the idea of getting to know someone before doing anything. She especially didn’t want to chance falling in love with someone who had slept with her mother!

Her father was taciturn most of the time. When he was really out of line the soldiers pulled his hair, once he even got tied to a chair! He was much more submissive now, but his toxicity still bubbled up to his surface.

“You were soiled in the war, now no one will want you,” hissed her father as Bernadetta read letters from Caspar and Linhardt that were asking how she was.

Bernadetta rolled her eyes, “It’s none of your business what I did in the war.” She paused and looked at him, “I did kill a lot of enemies though, I’m very good with a bow.” She noticed after that her father didn’t really come outside as much when she was doing target practice. It felt rather good to have scared him for once.

**Winter**

Bernadetta still had trouble sitting by the fireplace and not thinking about Gronder field burning up around her. She had lots of bad dreams about the war. Her mother encouraged to write it all out. Bernadetta had always enjoyed writing, and she found herself wiling away the winter writing a vaguely fictional account of her time in school and the war. She might have gone a little far with her protagonist, Bernadina von Marley. Bernadina was very brave and sexy and had passionate romances with all the stand in black eagles. It was extremely fun to write, although she hoped no one would ever read it. The battle scenes were real, the romantic scenes were complete fiction.

Dorothea and Hubert’s postcard came and she nearly dropped it. The Countess noticed, “Everything okay?”

“Oh, uh, two of my friends, Hubert and Dorothea, are on vacation in Brigid together,” said Bernadetta as she looked at the note again.

“Like on a honeymoon?” tried the Countess innocently.

“Uh,” said Bernadetta uncomfortably. Dorothea had written most of the note in her big bubbly script:

> _BERN! We ran off to Brigid instead of cleaning up Enbarr — Edie’s probably mad we skipped town…but it’s so nice here! You should come next winter, we can make this a yearly thing! Petra’s palace is a-m-a-z-i-n-g! The ocean is lovely, the shells are fun to collect, and the sand is so warm and soft. Love, xoxoxo -Dorothea_

Beneath it Hubert in his tight little script had added:

> _I am so sunburned you might not recognize me. I look like a cooked lobster, but maybe not as tasty. Wish you were here, -Hubert_

“I don’t think it’s a honeymoon,” said Bernadetta softly. “I think it’s just a trip.”

Her father raised an eyebrow and dared to speak, “An unmarried man and woman traveling together is never just a trip.”

Bernadetta stared at the note again and wondered if her friends were carrying on an affair. It wouldn’t surprise her. Dorothea was a huge flirt and Hubert’s war time fling was long gone. They were both tall and intimidating, maybe they were tall and intimidating together.

Bernadetta’s father shook his head, “These are people you went to school with?”

“Um, Hubert von Vestra and Dorothea Arnault,” said Bernadetta softly.

“Vestra,” repeated her father with disgust. “And what kind of name is Arnault?”

“She’s a commoner,” said Bernadetta weakly.

“That makes sense then,” declared her father. “Vestra is a disgusting excuse for a noble, and it doesn’t surprise me he’d openly keep a commoner whore.”

“Enough,” warned the Countess. “Minister von Vestra is a war hero, like Ms. Arnault, and our daughter. We should be proud of their accomplishments.”

“They lost,” hissed the ex-Count.

Bernadetta got up and ran to her room.

**Spring**

It was easy to walk away from her father now that he couldn’t chase her around, but it was hard to shut out his words. Sometimes when he spoke she wanted to sock him in the jaw but she didn’t want to abuse her abuser. She didn’t want to be a person that took joy from inflicting pain. That wasn't her. 

Eventually it became too much and Bernie packed up a bag. Her mother was concerned, “Are you going to Enbarr to see friends?”

“I’m going to go catalog plants,” growled Bernadetta. It was a lifelong dream, so she might as well start now. She knew her uncle had built a little observation station in the woods, she’d camp there. “I’m starting with the forests here.” She took her bow just in case.

She’d go to Enbarr as planned in the fall. She knew the Emperor and the Prime Minister! She’d ask for her father’s sentence to go from house arrest to prison. She wasn’t like her mother, she wasn’t having fun with her father’s situation. She wanted him gone.

**Summer**

Bernie loved exploring the wilds beyond her home and finding plants. Her mother brought her books to help her, and Bernie identified species and learned all about them. She collected flowers. She painted pictures of exciting beetles. She crocheted little raccoon dolls to make the most of how troublesome the cute little pests were being. She only had to use her bow for target practice.

**Fall**

Bernie assaulted Hubert with a frying pan and felt really bad, but she was a little confused why he cared so much in the first place.


	16. The von Aegir Parents Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernie meets Ferdinand's parents...and Ferdinand comes up with a plan to save the day.

**1186**

Ferdinand’s father’s prison cell was relatively nice all things considered. The Tower of Enbarr was a notorious prison for the worst criminals in Adrestia and the ex-Prime Minister had been handed down a life sentence for conspiracy against the crown. He was the ringleader so he had to go to prison. The old Marquis von Vestra had been executed for a dizzying number of Insurrection-related poisonings, Bernadetta’s own uncle among them. Most nobles involved that were not pardoned found themselves in positions similar to Bernie’s father, stuck at home under close watch.

Bernadetta wondered how she would ask the Emperor to throw her father in here. Edelgard and Hubert would probably push that paperwork through immediately. It was fun to daydream about. Right now though she was too busy watching Ferdinand prepare tea for his parents.

To put it bluntly, the von Aegirs were snobs of the highest order. Even in prison, Mr. von Aegir was bragging about how great his cell view was compared to the other prisoners on his floor. The von Aegirs could turn a turd into gold with the proper phrasing. Mrs. von Aegir was extremely well dressed and had a little lap dog named Ruffles she discretely fed from the table. Bernadetta learned the hard way that Ruffles only loved her mother, and snapped at everyone else.

“I am so sorry,” whispered Ferdinand. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.” Clearly, a taste for blood! Bernie decided Ruffles was not a dog at all but an overgrown sewer rat to make herself feel better.

“Bernadetta von Varley, so good to see you’ve reconnected with Ferdinand,” exclaimed the ex-duke. “Between you and me I was mortified when Ferdinand was afraid of you when you were children. Imagine having to tell your friend that you son was spooked by a doll!”

Bernadetta forced a smile and decided not to share that her father had tied her to a chair and ripped at her long hair over it. Ferdinand grabbed Bernadetta’s hand dramatically, “I was too young to understand what I wanted in those days.”

“You have a crest correct?” Mrs. von Aegir asked with her pencil thin eyebrows raised.

“Yep, uh I have a minor crest of Indech,” said Bernadetta quickly.

Mrs. von Aegir hummed with approval, “I remember you have quite a good pedigree behind you.”

Gross! However yes the von Varleys were quite a prominent family and her mother also came from an old Adrestian lineage. Ferdinand’s father looked pleased, “Just imagine how we could squeeze Bergliez and Hevring if you two were to join forces!” Linhardt and Caspar’s lands lay between that of Ferdie and Bernie’s inheritances.

Ferdinand blushed, “Let’s not get too hasty, I have only just begun courting Bernadetta!”

“Well the clock is ticking, you must consider the timing of children into the matter,” clucked Mrs. von Aegir as Ruffles emitted a low growl.

Bernadetta paled. Did she even want kids? “That’s uh, that’s a big step.” She had never even kissed Ferdinand! Now all she could think about was her mother’s terrible sex talk, oh no Bernie, get out of here! Shit, she was in a literal prison cell, there was no escape. Maybe if she fainted right now Ferdinand could spirit her away from his parents.

“Children are a necessary step for any noble couple,” said the ex-Prime Minister. “You must think of your legacy, of succession, of the next prime minister!”

“Uh, well, that is no longer a hereditary post,” said Ferdinand cautiously.

“But it could be again some day,” said Mr. von Aegir.

The tea time was so awkward. Bernie shoved some cake in her mouth so no one could ask her any more questions. Thankfully Ferdinand started going on and on about the current state of the government and spared Bernadetta any more uncomfortable comments about breeding.

“Bernadetta, I am so sorry, please let me make it up to you,” said Ferdinand as they walked back towards the palace.

Bernadetta squeezed his hand, “Well it’s not like I’m a stranger to bad parents. Yours are, intense, but we don’t get to pick our families.”

“Thank you for understanding,” said Ferdinand with relief.

Bernadetta linked her arm around his and rested her head on his strong shoulder as they walked, “Ah, Ferdinand I just want to say how much I enjoyed your letter.”

“My letter, of course,” said Ferdinand. He sounded nervous but she brushed it off. 

“Oh, please Ferdie, don’t be so afraid of your feelings,” whispered Bernadetta. Now that she understood that he was afraid of rejection everything made perfect sense! He wasn’t oblivious when they spent time together in the war, he was just feeling vulnerable! He wasn’t in love with her…but he could be if things went well!

“My feelings, yes,” Ferdinand felt warm, maybe a little sweaty, next to her.

“Do you want to have lunch together when we get back to the palace?”

“Uh, uh, actually, I am afraid things are moving a bit fast, I should have waited to have tea with you and my parents,” said Ferdinand in a panic. “Why don’t we do things more slowly!”

“Oh, well, sure,” said Bernadetta nervously. Things were moving faster than she was comfortable with, but for Ferdinand to put such a sudden freeze on things was unexpected. Oh no, what if he was ditching her again! What if seeing his parents took him back to the first time they were ‘courting’ oh Bernie, no.

No! Slow was good! Slow was safe, this was fine, Bernadetta told herself. She was busy anyway, she had literally hundreds of flowers to embroider. Maybe taking things slow was best for her schedule! Yes, yes, this was fine.

***

Ferdinand ran into Hubert’s office and slammed the door shut, “I have a problem.”

Hubert looked up from the ledgers he had to balance, “More blackmail?”

“What? No! I think I may have mishandled this Bernadetta situation,” said Ferdinand with a guilty twinge to his words. “I think she’s really taken with me! All thanks to your stupid letter!” Ferdinand paced and ran his fingers through his long flowing hair, “I am at a loss for how I am going to delicately explain this.”

“Do it sooner rather than later,” warned Hubert. Ferdinand should have done it from the start.

“Maybe I can get her to break up with me,” suggested Ferdinand. “That way it’s her idea! She’ll never know!”

“How are you Prime Minster?” demanded Hubert. “That is a terrible idea.”

“Well what do you suggest?” snapped Ferdinand impatiently.

Hubert shut his mouth, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to be anywhere near Bernadetta’s hurt feelings, although by writing that letter he’d completely tangled himself into Ferdinand’s mess. “How are you going to make her break up with you?”

“By poorly courting her, naturally,” said Ferdinand with confidence. “She will be so totally disappointed by me she will have to end things!”

“And what does poor courting look like to you?” Hubert hoped it was nothing too hurtful.

Ferdinand smiled mischievously, “I will use the wrong silverware at dinner!”

Hubert groaned, “She might not even notice, let alone break things off.”

“Too subtle? Fine, I’ll um, I will eat tuna fish when we take lunch so she won’t want to kiss me! I will order liver and onions! I will drink coffee. She shall never want to be near me.”

Hubert truly, deeply regretted that letter. “Ferdinand you have to come clean. You have to tell her the truth.”

Ferdinand sulked, he hated disappointing people. “Must I though?”

“If you don’t, I will,” threatened Hubert.

Ferdinand gulped and then frowned, “If you tell her before I find a way to explain myself, I’ll tell her you wrote that letter.”

Hubert shot up straight in his chair, so much for keeping his cool, “She’ll never believe you. I do a pretty good impersonation of your handwriting.”

“I’ll just suggest I rewrote it to pass it off as my own,” suggested Ferdinand. Damn von Aegir was persistent.

“It was just a fake a letter,” said Hubert, though his jaw was all clenched and the words had to be forced out.

Ferdinand leaned in and looked at Hubert closely, “My goodness, it was not a fake letter. It was full of heart, and you are getting nervous at the idea of her knowing how you feel.”

Hubert blanched at the accusation, “I am merely afraid of getting caught on your flaming, sinking ship!”

Ferdinand leaned forward and drummed his fingers together, “I think you are Bernadetta’s secret admirer.”

“I do not know what would give you that idea,” hissed Hubert.

“Perhaps the giant flower presently pinned to your chest,” said Ferdinand as he raised one eye brow. “You’re not even seeing her today, and yet you’re wearing it.”

Hubert went scarlet, “What if I ran into her? What if she came to me? One must always be prepared.” He folded his arms and tried to give Ferdinand an extra menacing look.

Ferdinand looked smug, “What an interesting development.”

Hubert’s glare narrowed in on the Prime Minister, “Tell her the truth that you’re not courting her and leave me the hell out of it.”

“I cannot,” smiled Ferdinand. “You are my friend and therefore I must help you, while simultaneously helping myself out of this mess.”

“What, are you just going to suggest that she starts seeing me instead of you?” demanded Hubert angrily.

“I’m a politician, not a miracle worker,” scoffed Ferdinand. “And anyway, how would I do that, take her for tea and suggest she try some coffee instead?”

“Then what is your plan here?” Hubert was very annoyed at how immune Ferdinand was to his glowering looks.

“I’ll do a poor job of courting her, and you can swoop in to romance her out from under my nose!” said Ferdinand as he raised his finger in the air with triumph.

“You wish for me to poach your fake girlfriend?” Hubert asked with as much ice in his voice as possible. Did Ferdinand not see how dangerous and stupid this idea was? It rested on him, Hubert von Vestra, romancing someone. When had that ever gone well?

“That is exactly what I wish. No hurt feelings, no painful reveals, just happy endings all around,” said Ferdinand cheerfully, clearly pleased by his plan. He was practically dancing in his chair he was so overjoyed by his solution.

“I hate you,” muttered Hubert.

“No you do not, I am your best friend,” snapped Ferdinand.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t hate you, just that I hate others more,” hissed Hubert as he held his head and wished Ferdinand would go jump in a lake.


	17. Who's on the Menu?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea's back in town! Something purple catches Ferdinand's eye.

A collective shudder echoed around the labia of Enbarr. Dorothea Arnault was home. “I’m back bitchessss,” sang Dorothea to the nearly empty entrance of the Imperial Palace. Hubert and Ferdinand were probably not the bitches she was hoping to see but they were the bitches available to greet her. Edelgard was attending emperor business, Bernadetta was busy working on Edelgard’s dress, and Petra’s wyvern had yet to arrive. Linhardt was traveling alone, apparently the idea of the group road trip made him sleepy. Hubert vaguely wondered if Linhardt was taking naps to avoid talking to people all along. Caspar had been waylaid on the road, taking care of quote, “Bad dudes!” He mentioned something about scorpion tattoos that Hubert felt would never be resolved with Caspar in charge of the investigation.

“Oh you two are just like the beautiful jewels adorning the Emperor’s crown,” teased Dorothea sarcastically as she booped each of their noses. She paused and regarded their clothes, “Well Ferdie is, Hubie what is that outfit?”

Hubert frowned and looked at his very plain suit, “What? What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s right with it?” teased Dorothea as she straighted out the embroidered flower on his chest, “This, this is the only exciting bit.” She winked, oh no what was going on in that hard to read head of hers? She looked around, “Damn, why did I get here so early! No one is here!”

Ferdinand balked, “We are here, and we are taking you to lunch!”

Dorothea loved when people bought her meals, and quickly changed her tune, “Oh wonderful, I love eating out.”

Enbarr was looking much better than it had one year ago. Rhea had not been a fan of the Professor’s peace talks at Gronder, so she had decided she was going to eat Enbarr. The dragon print shaped hole in the roof of the Mittelfrank opera house was almost repaired, the long line where the immaculate one’s tail had thumped against the ground had been re-purposed into a canal, and she had done them a favor in burning down the giant church so they didn’t have to demolish it themselves.

“Hubie, why do you have a clipboard?” sighed Dorothea as they settled down at their table.

They were at the restaurant that Hubert had identified as the optimal mix of delicious and budget friendly for catering Edelgard’s wedding. “I’m making the wedding menu, let me know your thoughts.”

Ferdinand smacked his face, “Do you ever not work?”

The answer was no as Hubert made them rate each item in the charcuterie spread on a scale from one to five. Enbarr was known for foods that began with P: pork, potatoes, pretzels, pickles, pizza, and pasta. They were on the coast so the fish was also much better than in Faerghus. They had really good beer, and Leiscester would be bringing the wine. What did Faerghus have? Vodka, that was it, and people drank way too much of it because they were so miserable to be living in the Kingdom. Hubert’s favorite joke of the moment was “ _What do you call a Faerghus drinking song_ ,” … “ _A song._ ,” although Ferdinand and Edelgard were both getting tired of him telling it.

Faerghus did have a strong cheese game, but they had to smother the rest their terrible food in the one good thing about that frozen excuse for a habitat in order to make it edible. Hubert had run a rather successful propaganda campaign during the war that suggested sayings like “ _Faerghus, we waste no part of the reindeer_ ” or “ _Don’t ask what’s in it, you don’t want to know!_ ” were common in the north. He was convinced that the Blue Lions all loved cooking so much because Garreg Mach was the closest they’d come to edible ingredients in their lives.

Hubert was confident that the Enbarr wedding was going to be much more delicious than the silly upcoming Fhirdiad farce. Hilda was conscripting Lysithea to aid in the dessert spread and the all important wedding cake since everyone agreed Hubert should have no involvement in picking anything sweet. They had already planted their flower seeds near Gronder so that the flower arrangements would be without peer. Now that Bernadetta was taking over as chief designer Hubert was finally at peace with his stress level.

“Ferdie, I heard you were caught having a very special tea time—”

“Dorothea! Not so loud,” hissed Ferdinand as he looked around the restaurant. They’d been sat away from others for some privacy but it was still very much a public venue.

Dorothea only came in loud, she whispered about as well as Caspar. She let out a languid sigh, “Are either of you courting anyone?” Hubert and Ferdinand exchanged looks and Dorothea’s gossip senses must of tingled because she leaned forward with an intense gleam in her green eyes, “Are you two finally courting each other?”

Both men looked horrified at the notion. Ferdinand complained first, “If we were together do you really think I would allow him to dress like that in public?”

Hubert sneered, “Your head is too far up your own ass to let anyone else in there.” Ferdinand spit out his wine at the suggestion.

“Boys, boys,” smiled Dorothea, clearly delighted to have so easily baited the into arguing, “You’re hilarious, never change.”

Ferdinand dabbed his mouth with his napkin with a long glare at Hubert, “Actually I am currently courting Bernadetta.”

Dorothea balked, “Oh Ferdie, no. Everyone knows she has a crush on you but why are you encouraging that?”

“I am not encouraging it, I am doing a terrible job,” smiled Ferdinand broadly. Ferdinand’s concept of ‘bad courting’ was doing things like using a dinner fork for a salad, or taking Bernadetta to a poorly reviewed opera. Also, Bernadetta unfortunately had such heart eyes for him she was completely ignoring all the ways in which he was purposefully messing up.

Dorothea grimaced, “And why are you torturing Bern like that? You’re going to make her never want to date again! Remember when she broke up with Caspar and how long it took her to come back out of her room?”

“Ah, that is why I am subliminally encouraging her to be interested in Hubert,” said Ferdinand devilishly. Villainy did not suit him. He leaned in to whisper, loudly, to Dorothea, “He is simply smitten with her.” Hubert groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Dorothea raised her eyebrow as she looked at the two schemers, “Do you have even half a brain between the two of you? No wonder we lost the war.”

“We didn’t lose, we ended in a draw,” protested Hubert.

Dorothea frowned, “Yeah but no one else’s capital got decimated. I’d say that makes us the losers.”

Ferdinand waved her off, it was easy for him to not feel nostalgic for Enbarr, he didn’t grow up here, “Those buildings needed renovating anyway.”

Dorothea got serious as she pointed her finger first at Ferdinand, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but don’t mess around with Bern’s feelings,” she turned her attention to Hubert, “Either of you.”

“I do wish to court her,” said Hubert softly. “I just don’t know how.” He set his clipboard aside and finally drank his wine.

Dorothea leaned her elbows on the table and appraised him, “Well you start by telling her how you feel.”

“I make her afraid,” sighed Hubert.

Dorothea was no stranger to his love troubles. She had healed his questionable injuries inflicted by Shamir, and she had helped gather up the pieces of his heart when Edelgard smashed it. “Show her your soft gooey side, no one could find that mess scary.”

“Well it would be a lot easier to get closer to her if _someone_ was not pretending to court her,” said Hubert as he glared at Ferdinand. This was getting out of control, he had to get Bernadetta alone and just explain things but being the busy bureaucrat he was, he’d packed both their schedules to the brim and then they were going on a group road trip! He was going to have to guise it as work or something.

***

Edelgard, Bernadetta, and Hubert waited impatiently for the Alliance envoy to arrive. Bernadetta had been put on note taking duty, “Are you sure I can’t go to my room?”

The Emperor shook her head, “You need fresh air every once and a while.” She winked for good measure.

“I have flowers to embroider,” she whined under her breath out of ear shot from the Emperor. Did no one appreciate the amount of time making a whole flower covered wedding dress would take?

“Do you need help completing your task?” The hair stood up on the back of her neck, how the heck did Hubert manage to have such good hearing? Could someone train to be a better eavesdropper or was he just naturally some sort of owl?

“Do you, do you know how to embroider?” she asked hopefully.

Hubert shook his head, “But maybe you could teach me and I could offset some of the work for you?”

Bernie groaned, “It will take too long to teach you.” Time that could be better spent working!

“I’m a quick study,” promised Hubert.

“Maybe,” grumbled Bernie. Whatever next thing Hubert was going to say was cut off by a dramatic entrance of Hilda carrying Lorenz across the threshold of the palace entrance while singing a rather off key wedding march.

Edelgard looked annoyed, “Where is Claude?”

Lorenz jumped from Hilda’s arms and straightened out his clothes before bowing, “His majesty sends his apologies, he has been held up, but I Lorenz Hellman Gloucester will serve as his stand in until he arrives!”

Edelgard looked at Hubert, “I did not realize we were allowed stand ins for this. You can be me, good luck.” She patted him on the chest and went on her way.

“Wonderful,” whispered Hubert as Lorenz linked arms with him.

Hilda clasped her hands together, “Aw, what a beautiful couple! Hublegard and Laude.”

“Clorenz,” tried Lorenz.

“Come on Laude, let’s go over the layout,” said Hubert as he pulled his fake-fiance along.

“Damn this is a big palace,” said Hilda with admiration as they entered the throne room, in which the wedding would occur. “Just big enough for all of Claude’s Almyran family!”

Hubert gestured at the space, “We’ll have the chairs facing the throne, which we can cover in something, um, wedding-y, and then after the ceremony we’ll usher everyone back into the main hall for drinks while the tables come out and are set.”

“This room is rather, um, crimson and shadow, don’t you think,” asked Lorenz as he looked at the harsh imperial decorating style.

Hubert sounded as if he were fighting his boredom, “What are your suggestions?”

“Purple,” said Lorenz knowingly as Hilda rolled her eyes.

Hubert exchanged a look with Bernie that said, _“Can I murder him?”_ Bernie quickly shook her head no, and Hubert sighed, “What would Claude like?”

“Probably yellow, and green,” said Lorenz. “But let’s be honest here, purple and red go better together than red, green and yellow.”

“Well we’ve planted white roses to be seasonally appropriate, so that should brighten the place up a bit,” offered Hubert.

“Purple is a color of royalty,” said Bernie quickly. “Maybe there’s a purple rug or something in storage!”

“Ah you, I like you,” said Lorenz with an approving smile. “I think we share a certain sense of fine fashion.”

Bernadetta did not feel very fashionable in comparison to Lorenz. He was by and far the most fashionable person she had ever seen. Hilda clapped her hands, “Great! Decor done.”

“No we have to go through the place settings,” grumbled Hubert as he led them to the options. Apparently the Hresvelgs had quite the array of porcelain in storage.

Lorenz stepped in and paused at the options. He quickly grabbed what he wanted and set the table. Everyone stared. Hubert glanced at Bernie, “Are you writing this down?”

Bernie hurried to scribble down the selection. “Gold silverware, would that be goldware?” No one knew the answer to that.

***

Ferdinand was on his way to a meeting as he rushed past the Throne room. He paused after passing the entrance and carefully padded back. That flash of amethyst, that striking violet stare, Lorenz was here. Ferdinand tugged nervously at his cravat as he spied on the group. He did not go unnoticed. Bernadetta gave him a cheerful wave. He returned it nervously and then fled lest anyone else notice he was watching the recent arrivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I really like food (eating and cooking) and based on the names popular in Adrestia/the Alliance, I feel like that's kind of a german-italy type stretch, hence the pretzels and pizza. The national cuisine of Faerghus is stone soup and scrapple.


	18. The Road to Fhirdiad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea and Edelgard try to give Bernie some advice, and accidentally trigger her self persecution complex.

The Emperor was lounging in her robe with her long white hair cascading down the side of the bed. She had some periodical open that she was browsing over, apparently the latest news from the Alliance, in an attempt to have conversation points with Claude during the trip to Fhirdiad that started tomorrow. She looked at Bernie, “Dump him.”

“What?” squeaked Bernadetta as she looked up from her latest embroidered flower. She had finished a dozen, and she needed about two hundred. Bernie wept internally every time she did the math. Maybe she was going to have to take up Hubert’s offer of help, although when he was going to find time to do that was a mystery. Surely his schedule was packed!

“She’s ordering you to dump Ferdie,” said Dorothea with a smile as the songstress flopped down to cuddle Edelgard. “Isn’t that right Edie?”

“Yes, it’s a decree from your Emperor, kick Ferdinand von Aegir to the curb,” said Edelgard as she flipped the page.

Bernadetta felt under attack as she clutched her needle and thread, “But I don’t want to break up with him!”

“You’re not his type,” promised Dorothea with a wink.

“Has Ferdinand made a move on you?” demanded Edelgard as she rolled over. She sounded like she was considering throwing him in a dungeon.

“Uh, we’re taking things slow,” said Bernadetta uncertainly. Glacially slow.

Dorothea cracked her knuckles and cupped her hands over her mouth. “Ferdie likes men,” she sang.

What! If that were true he wouldn’t be courting Bernie! “Maybe he’s making an exception—”

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Dorothea. “Trust me.”

“B-but he took me to meet his parents,” protested Bernie. That had to mean he was serious!

“That’s punishment not a date,” argued Edelgard. “I mean his mother, ugh. I think that violates our anti-torture treaties.”

Bernie was reminded of how super uncomfortable she had been, but surely Ferdinand wasn’t fake dating her. To what end would that even serve? He was too nice! Oh no, what if it was true though?! Dorothea and Edelgard were nice, they wouldn’t try to tempt her away from Ferdie…unless…unless they were recruiting her for the emperor’s harem! Oh no. Bernadetta gave them some side eye trying to see if they were looking at her any differently than normal. They didn’t appear to be scheming, no more than usual anyway. _Something_ was going on, and Bernie didn’t know who to trust.

“Come on Bern! We’re about to go to a wedding with all of our old classmates, ditch Ferdie and think about hooking up with someone else,” smiled Dorothea.

Bernadetta paled, “Wh-what? Who else would I possibly date?” Bernie did not hook up. Bernadetta treated every relationship like it might be ‘the one’, and was always disappointed when it wasn’t.

Dorothea started counting off fingers, “Let’s see, there’s Felix.”

“No way, he triggers my fight response, I much prefer flight!”

“Raphael,” Dorothea bit her lip and flexed her muscles.

“Wha-why? He’s absolutely terrifying! I lose my mind around him!” Sure he was nice, nice and scary!

“Seteth—” Okay now Dorothea was just messing with her!

“Seteth!” squeaked Bernie in shock. “The school disciplinarian! No!”

Dorothea rolled her eyes, “What about Hubert? Is he more or less scary than Seteth?”

“Well less obviously,” said Bernie as she pulled her blanket around herself to hide. Just her face was popping out as she brought her blanket covered hands up to cower behind. “Hubert’s never tried to kill me, Seteth definitely did!” She thought about Dorothea’s list, like any of those guys were interested in Bernie, “Stop making ridiculous suggestions.”

Dorothea smirked, “Look Bern, if some guy asks you to dance at the wedding, will you at least give him a chance?”

“Maybe I’ll be too busy dancing with Ferdinand,” challenged Bernadetta.

“Maybe,” said Edelgard dryly, clearly unconvinced. “But if someone does ask you to dance, you must accept, Emperor’s orders.”

“This is an abuse of power!” squeaked Bernadetta from beneath her blanket. “Quit oppressing me!”

Dorothea and Edelgard exchanged glances. “Dump Ferdinand,” they declared in unison.

Bernadetta groaned. Why was everyone out to get her? “Let me at least keep him until after the wedding.”

“Dump him at the wedding,” advised Dorothea. “For maximum satisfaction.”

“Only if he’s a bad date,” said Bernie in a quiet voice as a personal addendum. Ferdinand was taking things rather slow for even her. Maybe she could convince him to move things along and show everyone this wasn’t as ludicrous as they apparently thought. Who could fake a love letter like the one Ferdie had given her? No, Dorothea and Edelgard had to be wrong.

Petra burst through the door in her coat, “Why is it so cold here! Enbarr is more south than Brigid. I do not have understanding!”

“Oh no girl, you are not going to like Fhirdiad,” said Dorothea with a laugh.

“No one likes Fhirdiad,” said Edelgard softly as she set her reading material aside.

***

A carriage and a host of horses were making their way from Enbarr to the Kingdom’s capital in style. Given the option, Hubert would not have minded the nice warm carriage but he had orders to spy on Claude. This wasn’t about matters of state or conspiracy, no, Hubert was tasked about learning what the hell Claude liked. So while Edelgard got to enjoy the nice plush carriage seats with Bernadetta, Dorothea, Petra and Hilda, Hubert was stuck between Lorenz and Claude with Ferdinand acting uncharacteristically shy. Caspar arrived at the very last minute and hopped right into the carriage insisting there was totally room between Hilda and Bernadetta. Thus began their road trip of the damned.

“So what, are you vetting me for her majesty?” teased Claude as they rode. Hubert had been asking him all sorts of questions and only getting vague answers or worse, riddles. He was never one to give up but this was getting tedious.

“She would like to get to know you better,” said Hubert stiffly. “I would like to get to know you better.”

“Claude,” started Lorenz carefully, “Hubert is going to be like your brother-in-law, you need to start thinking about this as your future family, not just some abstract peace treaty.”

 _Brother-in-law?_ Hubert tried to keep his face static, but that was a horrifying descriptor to him. What did that make Hilda and Lorenz? Step-cousins from hell?

“Ah yeah we’ll sit around the St. Cichol day tree and trade tips on new poisons we’ve started using,” sighed Claude.

“You need to take this seriously,” warned Lorenz. Maybe Lorenz wasn’t that bad after all, he seemed to be the only one aware that this peace was hinging on a successful marriage between the Empire and Alliance. “For better or worse, Adrestia and Leicester are in bed together, and if we do not cooperate we are looking at meddling from the north into our joint reforms.”

Hubert was shocked that Ferdinand was not launching into some sort of diatribe about their shared vision for Fodlan. Ferdinand was quiet. Things were never good when Ferdinand got quiet.

He let his horse fall back to join Ferdie, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Wrong? Nothing! I am great,” said Ferdinand with a patently fake smile. “Could not be better.”

“Really,” said Hubert as he stole a glance at the crammed carriage. If Caspar didn’t end up strapped to the roof with the luggage by the end of this it would be a miracle. “How’s your scheme to get dumped going?”

“Maybe I’ll hold off,” whispered Ferdinand.

“What?!” Hubert tried to instill extra ire into his voice. 

Ferdinand made a reluctant sound, “I think it would be best if I appeared to be in a relationship.”

Hubert resisted the urge to push Ferdie from his horse, “Could you appear in a relationship with anyone else?” Ferdinand hung his head and sighed.

When they finally stopped for the night Edelgard was practically jumping from the carriage, “Hilda and Caspar would not stop talking.”

“Hmm, Ferdinand wouldn’t talk,” complained Hubert. “I never thought that would be a bad thing.”

“Are we there yet?” cried Dorothea as she drug Bernadetta to the bar at the inn.

“At least you’re in the carriage,” sighed Hubert. They were still in Adrestia and Hubert was freezing. He hated that Lorenz and Ferdinand had both suggested the carriage needed riders beside it to protect the people inside, and who better to do that then generals? Hubert was going to suggest they rotate the responsibility.

“You should just start drinking vodka now to keep warm,” suggested Dorothea as she took her first shot.

“No thank you.” Hubert didn’t really do drunk well; he tended to get weepy and it wasn’t a good look. None of the black eagles were particularly good drunks: Linhardt would fall asleep mid sip, Ferdinand got too affectionate, and Caspar would demand arm wrestles from everyone. Dorothea broke into song. Edelgard never got drunk, and as far as he knew neither did Bernadetta. Petra would start to slur into her native tongue and became impossible to understand after about four drinks.

Instead of vodka, he had a particularly silly pair of footed, crimson pajamas that he might just keep on under his clothes tomorrow. As he readied for bed he put them on and Ferdinand, his roommate for the trip, stopped in his tracks, “Hubert that is absolutely awful, that’s what you sleep in?”

Hubert didn’t care that his fleece suit didn’t tickle Ferdinand’s fancy, “When it’s cold, yes.”

“Oh goddess, no wonder you are single,” sighed Ferdinand as he got into his own fine satin pajama set. He braided his hair so that it would look nice in the morning and put on his sleep mask, “Do not disturb me, I need my beauty sleep.”

“Why, who are you trying to impress?” demanded Hubert. He had not missed the stolen glances Ferdinand was shooting at Lorenz.

“Good night Hubert,” said Ferdinand dramatically as he snuggled with his pony plush.

Hubert threw a pillow at him, “Come on von Aegir, it’s a sleep over. You know my crush, who’s yours?”

Ferdinand lifted his sleep mask to toss the pillow back and glared, “I do no know of what you speak.”

Hubert draped the back of his hand across his forehead, “Oh _Lorenz_ , you’re so magnificent.”

“Please drop it von Vestra,” hissed Ferdinand.

“Yes, I suppose I ought to, why would he be interested in a man with a girlfriend?” sighed Hubert as he pulled his blankets up. Oh his feet were so nice and toasty right now, it almost made him forget that tomorrow he’d be outside for eight hours in increasingly chilly temperatures.

Ferdinand had nothing to say, he just grumbled and blew out the candle.

***

Bernadetta was too distracted to pay much attention to the conversation in the carriage (axes, again…). Dorothea was all but forcing her to dance with someone at the reception if they asked. Bernie kept thinking about Dorothea’s suggestions. Seteth was way out, that had to be a joke.

Once in school, Felix had surprised her and she had accidentally tried to chop and dodge her way around him. He proceeded to follow her around and demand that she teach him her secret technique. There was no technique! It was pure survival instinct, but Felix insisted it was some fantastic fighting move. She was afraid if she danced with him he’d tried to get her to attack again. He was out.

Raphael was extremely affable. She was intimidated by his great mass and appetite but knew that everyone agreed he was one of the nicest people around. He had however not respected her desire to practice her trumpet in peace and privacy. She wasn’t that good, no matter what Raphael said, and she was more comfortable playing alone! He wasn’t exactly stealthy and she had caught him a number of times trying to spy on her secret practices. When she said she wanted to be alone, she meant it!

Lastly, Hubert. Hubert took extreme pains to keep Bernadetta from being scared of him: ceasing laughing and smiling, and even wearing a rather feminine and embarrassing favor just because she told him it helped. Had the flower ever really helped at all? It hadn’t helped in the moment right after giving it, and yet he kept it on like some talisman meant to ward off his intrinsic scariness.

The worst part of sewing or crafting for others was that you put a lot of hard work into something and didn’t get to keep it! So it was extra nice to see him wearing it all the time even all these years later. Although, he wasn’t wrong when he said it didn’t suit him, and she wondered if she ought not make him a new one. The one he had was a plant she liked, but maybe she ought to ask what flower he liked. Maybe an oleander, or some other poisonous flower. Maybe not a flower at all, perhaps he’d want an Adrestian eagle…Oh goodness Bernie, what was this line of thinking? She didn’t have time to make favors for Hubert, she had a wedding dress to start!

She peeked out the window to size him up. Hubert had bed head, a terrible case of it, as usual. His hair was always a rumpled mess, and sometimes it even looked like he had horns! Right now he was pretending there was no problem by wearing a hat. In comparison, Lorenz and Ferdinand both had gorgeous locks.

Hubert wasn’t Ferdinand levels of handsome. They were both technically knights, but Ferdinand looked like he’d been conjured from a storybook. Hubert looked like he actively avoided mirrors. Hubert lacked Lorenz’s fashion sense. She had seen his pajamas in line for the bathroom and they looked highly comfortable, and incredibly funny with their buttoned butt flap. He wasn’t charming like Claude; the insults he and Ferdinand traded were funny to watch, but she could hardly imagine being on the receiving end of his cutting words. She vaguely wondered how someone like her father would fair in a verbal match with Hubert and decided the ex-Count wouldn’t stand a chance. Hubert took insults in like vitamins; whatever someone could muster, he’d almost certainly heard worse.

Bernadetta sighed and shook her head, none of these guys were going to ask her to dance! She focused instead on her embroidery; she was at a dozen and a half flowers, with seven months to go. Plenty of time, maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of Dorothea's suggested dance partners are potentially s-supports in game for Bernie.
> 
> I finally downloaded Fire Emblem Heroes...and spent literally all my free orbs trying to summon Hubert. I got him on my last few! :')


	19. A Faerghus Winter Wedding...aka Hell (pt 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything appears to be falling into place for Hubert, until the floor falls out beneath him.

The wedding began not in the castle, but in a church. Hubert braced himself to burn as he crossed the threshold, but nothing happened. Ha, take that Seiros!

The Black Eagles and Golden Deer were crammed into a small section on the bride’s side; they had to practically fight the knights of Seiros, now the Knights of Sothis, for space.

“Oh no, the dick biter is here,” hissed Dorothea into Hubert’s ear.

That could only mean Shamir had shown. Hubert glanced down at Dorothea, “Please, do not call her that. I do not need people asking how you know that.”

Hilda was totally eavesdropping on them from the other side of Hubert, “Whoa drama!”

Hubert sighed, “No just old news. She was more like a dick, nipper.” Hubert’s brain cringed at his response. He was grateful that Bernadetta was too far away to possibly hear this ridiculous exchange. Luckily the procession was starting so there could be no more discussion of Hubert’s past sexual mishaps.

Alois was walking Byleth down the aisle. She looked self assured as usual as she approached the King of Faerghus. Hubert tried not to stare at Edelgard too much. The Emperor was silently crying and there was nothing Hubert could do to help her. She had always been taken with the professor, but it was a love that had never gotten the chance to grow. Now it was forever out of reach. To Hubert’s surprise, Claude put a gentle hand across Edelgard’s shoulders and let her lean on him to cry. Perhaps the prince of Almyra understood things better than Hubert gave him credit for.

For his part Dimitri looked regal and happy about the wedding. That was refreshing; the last time Hubert had glimpsed Dimitri he had looked anything but sane. The super traditional religious ceremony was presided over by Seteth. The couple made a fine match and this was helping to solidify this new peace. Hubert looked around the chapel and knew that a year and a half ago all these people would be at each other’s throats. Now they were crowding around and cheerfully watching a wedding. So this was the new Fodlan, no Rhea, and no extra privileges for crests, for the south at least. Faerghus had no plans to change their system of government or how crests were treated. Hubert sighed and thought, _that’s someone else’s war_ , for the first time in his life.

***

The reception hall was packed with people. It was a little overwhelming to say the least. Dinner was not reindeer, which was almost a disappointment, but instead a run of the mill cheese drenched meatloaf made from unknown assemblages of animals. The server didn’t seem to understand when Hubert inquired if there would be vegetables served.

Hilda grimaced and looked to Hubert for emotional support, which he had never been good at giving. “Don’t worry, our menu is much better.”

“How could it be worse?” whispered Hilda as she pushed a glob of cheese around her plate.

The cake was a monstrous four tier tower. Lysithea, official dessert taste tester, closed her eyes, “Fuck it’s good.” Hubert made note that they were going to have to do five, no six tiers, of delicious cake if they were going to outdo the Blue Lion baking squad.

After the cake was served it seemed like the night was just going to keep going until people gave up and passed out. The early to bed’s were heading out, and Hubert knew he had little time to make any kind of move on Bernadetta. Dorothea had promised she had acted as his wing woman, he just had to build up the courage to actually ask.

Fortunately Hilda only made Hubert dance with her once before feasting her eyes on hunkier prey. Hilda hauled Caspar onto the dance floor and wouldn’t let him sit down. Hubert sighed and let his eyes trace over to the other Black Eagle/Golden Deer table. Ferdinand was engrossed in his conversation…with Lorenz! Bernadetta looked a little bored as she glanced at the dance floor.

Hubert took a deep breath and got up. This was it Hubert, go save her from Ferdinand and win her heart. Easy.

Hubert accidentally loomed a little and Bernadetta jumped as he offered his hand, “May I have this dance Ms. von Varley?”

“Oh, uh, Hubert! Hi,” she glanced over at Ferdinand who was too absorbed in some mundane discussion about rose bushes to even notice Hubert trying to steal his date. She took his hand, “Sure, I suppose one dance couldn’t hurt!”

It was as if destiny was on his side as a slow dance started up at that moment. Bernadetta blushed as she heard the dragging tempo, “Oh this sounds like a long one.”

 _Perfect_. Hubert led her to a nice corner of the dance floor, no need to get mixed up in the middle where Hilda was crushing Caspar in her embrace. The first minute was awkward as they fumbled with their hands while Hubert tried to manage Bernadetta’s petite height. He had one hand out leading, and his other started at her upper back as they maintained a respectable distance.

“I haven’t been to a dance since, well school I guess!” said Bernadetta as she looked at all their former classmates out on the floor. “Although, I don’t think I danced with anyone at that ball.”

“Nor I,” said Hubert softly as his hand migrated down to her waist. He dared to pull her just a bit closer and to his delight she didn’t resist at all.

“This is nice,” she said wistfully as she rested her head against his chest. It was nice! Hubert tried to play it cool as she settled against him. “Thanks for dancing with me Hubert, you’re a good _friend_.”

Ah the F word. Hubert’s hand called it quits on its steady march south and changed course for her upper back again. He wasn’t really sure what to say; something like _“I could be more than a friend”_ seemed a little, well, not him. He settled on a neutral topic instead, “Are you enjoying your evening?”

“Oh yeah!” said Bernadetta. “The food was fine, well dessert was, although maybe I just had really low expectations for food in Faerghus.”

Hubert laughed softly because their food scene was pretty paltry in comparison to somewhere like Leicester or Adrestia. Bernadetta continued to grade the wedding, “Byleth’s wedding dress is nice, a little daring with the midriff, but it suits her! I think the center pieces were a nice use of antlers and holly, given the season.”

Hubert closed his eyes as he listened to her and just tried to enjoy the feeling of dancing so close to her. She was in his arms, calm, happy, and she wasn’t even passed out. She laughed, “Although who throws a winter wedding in Faerghus? I mean come on.” It was chilly out, but they were plenty warm right up next to each other.

His hand decided it would be more comfortable on her lower back after all. He let his head hang just a bit so that he could smell her hair, honey and rose? Whatever it was, it smelled sweet and fresh and Hubert’s heart was singing a happy little tune. She was practically pressed against him and Hubert’s mind could not help but wander as it started to picture them pressed together without all these clothes in the way.

Unfortunately, his dick then decided to be a dick. Hubert panicked as he tried to think of something unsexy…paperwork! Maybe she wouldn’t notice he was slightly aroused.

Bernadetta practically jumped away from him with wide wild eyes as she looked at the tent forming his pants and then up at him. To her credit, she didn’t scream. She did however sprint out of the dance hall. Hubert smacked his face and internally cursed his dumb cock for ruining things. Hubert trudged over to the bar where Dorothea was staring at him. “What did you do to make Bernie run away like that?” As if totally caught his little half erection shrank away in shame.

Hubert sighed as he signaled for a drink, he needed something super strong after that, and he looked at Dorothea, “I didn’t do anything on purpose.”

Whatever quip Dorothea was going to make went silent as she got pale, “Oh shit, Shamir incoming.”

Before Hubert had a chance to react Dorothea was attempting to hide him. The bar tender gave the two of them a damning stare as Dorothea shoved Hubert into a forced duck and tried to partially hide him with her breasts as Shamir walked by.

***

Hubert had a penis. Hubert had a penis! Oh no Bernie how could you forget that small detail! Well, maybe it was a large detail, she didn’t get a good sense—stop brain! NO! Bernadetta buried her face in her hands as she realized one of her worst fears from ages 11 to now had just happened. She was dancing with a boy, well, a man, at a ball and she’d given him an erection. Oh Bernie, you’ve really done it now.

She dared to peer back into the dance area and saw Hubert at the bar, practically burying his face in Dorothea’s chest! Bernadetta went scarlet. That scoundrel! That fiend! What, once Bernie ran away from the lustful demon he just made a dash to the nearest warm body? Outrageous!

Bernadetta was struck by another terrible thought, by making him hard was he now seeking out just anyone to make him soft again? Oh no, poor Dorothea! What had Bernie just unleashed on the reception? Bernie summed up her courage and pushed up her sleeves, time to put this asshole in line!

Bernadetta did not have a plan. She also had questionable improvisational skills. She fumed as she poked him, “Hubert!”

He looked at her bewildered, “Bernadetta I am so sorr—”

She didn’t want an apology. She grabbed Dorothea’s vodka martini and tossed it on him, “You need to cool down!”

“Hey!” snapped Dorothea as her drink dripped down Hubert’s face.

Bernie snapped her glare to Dorothea, “You’re welcome.” She stomped away. She didn’t feel particularly victorious but she had just hopefully guaranteed that Hubert couldn’t force himself on Dorothea now!

Would he really do that though? Bernie bit her lip, Hubert was polite, and he really didn’t seem like some sort of sex maniac. Plus she had no idea what kind of relationship Dorothea and Hubert had, hell, they had gone on vacation together! Maybe they were sex partners and Hubert wasn’t forcing anything at all. If anyone was a forceful type, it was Dorothea! Oh no Bernie, what did you just do? Bernadetta decided it was best not to look back and that it was much better to just run, run far away from what she’d just done.

***

Petra was doing damage control, “Bernadetta was having an arm muscle spasm! Too much archery!” People were actually believing it given how much of a spaz everyone knew Bernie to be.

Hubert excused himself to the restrooms and embraced the silence of the hallway. _Well that was unexpectedly...wet_. Hubert could scarcely remember a time his penis had managed to get him into that much trouble when he bumped straight into Shamir.

She looked at him and had the nerve to smirk, “Vestra, you’re very um, damp.”

Hubert sighed, “Indeed, now if you’ll excuse me—”

“What did you do to her?” Shamir teased. Damn she looked good; her long black dress was way too tight and accented with a little teal jacket reminiscent of her old style during the war. Her hair was freshly cut in her unique asymmetrical way and she’d done her make up. Hubert did not want to acknowledge how much that thick black eyeliner was making him miss her.

“It was a simple miscommunication,” insisted Hubert as he tried to escape her.

“You’re really running away from me?”

Hubert spun on his heels and glared, “You ran away from me first—”

Shamir kissed him and Hubert shamefully sank into the familiarity of her embrace. He was lost for a few moments before all the hurt he’d fell when she’d left him the first time lit up his heart with a fiery pain. Hubert pulled back and carefully put Shamir at arm’s length, “I cannot do this again.”

Shamir shrugged, “Worth a shot. You were fun.”

Hubert sighed with frustration, “Fun? Shamir I think I was in love with you and I’m pretty sure you barely liked me.”

Shamir did look a little hurt by his words, “You think I didn’t like you? Why the hell would I spend so much time around you if I didn’t like you?”

“I was under the impression it was just sex for you,” said Hubert with a chill in his tone.

Shamir looked confused as she threw a thumb back at the reception, “Are you kidding me? I could just about have sex with anyone I wanted, but I wanted _you_.”

A weak lonely part of Hubert, the part that apparently got aroused by merely slow dancing, was trying to argue that it couldn’t hurt just to hear Shamir out, but a rational cold part of him was yelling how bad she was for him. Hubert shut his eyes and took a deep breath, “If that’s what you’re looking for you need to go to someone else. From the sounds of it you won’t have too much trouble finding some other fool to torment.” He opened his eyes and gave her a passive look because he wasn’t mad at her anymore, he was just over her, “Good bye Shamir.”

***

Bernadetta was lost in the big Faerghus castle and could not find her room. Could the night possibly get any worse? Hubert and Dorothea probably hated her now, which meant everyone probably hated her because everyone liked those two way more than Bernie. Well, it was nice having friends but the hermit life was calling. This night could not get any worse.

She heard a familiar laugh, oh thank goodness, Ferdinand was close by! He would help her. Bernadetta picked up the pace so that she could get her poor date to put her out of her misery. As she turned the corner she was met with an unexpected sight.

Ferdinand wasn’t alone. Bernadetta felt her mouth fall open as she stared at Lorenz Hellman Gloucester locked in a rather passionate embrace with her date! She was as still as possible and afraid to breathe she was so focused on being silent. What the hell was she supposed to do? What, did Ferdie just have a thing for purple hair? Was that all she was too him? No wonder he was barely paying attention to her tonight!

She backed up slowly and then when she was out of sight she rapidly tried to get back to the reception. Thoughts were racing through her head. She wanted to go to her guest room and put a pause on this super awkward night. A few thoughts kept screaming in her head: _you gave Hubert an erection! Ferdinand really does like men! You threw a martini in Hubert’s face! Ferdie was fake dating you! Motherfucker! Where is my room?!_

She stumbled back into the reception. Hubert was gone, but Dorothea was still at the bar. Dorothea watched as Bernie started to cry and came over to rescue her.

Bernie probably sounded crazy as a stream of words rolled out, thankfully muffled by the way Dorothea was basically shoving Bernadetta’s face into her cleavage, “Hubert, boner, Ferdinand, gay, everyone’s mad at me, I just want to get out of here!” Dorothea didn’t say anything as she pulled Bernadetta from the absolute biggest social disaster of her entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright Dear Reader, I apologize to get you hooked on near daily updates and leave you with this cliffhanger...but I am moving IRL and must literally pack up my desktop and who knows when it will be unpacked (along with, you know, all my other junk). When next we meet, this night is not yet over.


	20. A Faerghus Winter Wedding...aka Hell (pt 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ferdinand reconnects with an old flame.  
> Dorothea coaches Bernie through how to properly deal with the Ferdinand situation.  
> Hubert...should really ask people to repeat themselves when he can't properly hear them.

_**Slightly earlier in the evening** _

Lorenz watched as Bernadetta was led away to the dance floor, “There goes your date.”

Ferdinand briefly turned to see Hubert finally dancing with Bernadetta. Took von Vestra long enough. This was for the best, those two could actually make each other happy. At least this self-induced fiasco would be off Ferdinand’s plate. He turned back to Lorenz, “I am surprised you didn’t bring anyone.”

Lorenz shrugged and sipped at his cocktail, “When I deign to bring a date to a function, I intend them to be an actual date.”

Ferdinand sighed and looked up at Lorenz. He had been a wonderful first crush to have; a charming youth with big ambitions and an infectious manner. He had grown into a young man who had his own share of insecurities at school, “I distinctly remember you asking out about half the women in our class.”

Lorenz bit back a laugh, “Well, that was a long time ago and I was less comfortable in my skin then. I’ve always known who I was, I’ve just finally learned how to accept it.” This was why Lorenz had grown from a charming boy, to awkward youth, to an absolutely devastating man. Ferdinand could scarcely discern if he wanted to be with him or be him, and perhaps it was both.

“I envy you,” said Ferdinand with resignation as he leaned back in his seat. “People insist I am brave,” he laughed bitterly to himself, “If they only knew.”

“How far have you allowed this charade to go? Have you been intimate with her?” Lorenz was not one for indelicate questions, yet here he was toeing a dangerous line.

Ferdinand shook his head, “Never. No. I may lie about a lot of things but not in my bed.”

“Well that’s good at least. There are many men like us, yet they take wives and make their families miserable over their own secret shame,” whispered Lorenz. “I have made my decision to never live that way.”

“What did your parents do when we were caught?” asked Ferdinand. It was a question he’d long had, and never had the courage to ask.

“I received a stern talking to about noble conduct,” sighed Lorenz. “I was told that I needed to find a woman worthy of the Gloucester name. So I looked, and I looked, and I looked. In time I realized that marrying would not help me be a better leader, and that anyone can strive to the ideals I believe in, not just lofty perfect nobles.”

“My father told me I could not be a von Aegir,” said Ferdinand softly. “That I could not be prime minister.”

Lorenz shrugged, “Well you appear to be both. A true leader must challenge that which is common practice if the people are not benefiting.”

“Strangely Hubert told me something similar,” laughed Ferdinand weakly as he thought back to their conversation about his blackmail letter. He tapped his knuckles upon the table as he thought about their shared past and present situations, “I apologize for not speaking to you much in school, I was afraid of my own feelings.”

“I understand,” said Lorenz. He paused almost playfully, “Would you care to reconnect?”

Ferdinand looked up quickly, “As in friends, or, intrepid explorers of lips?”

Lorenz rose and offered one of his lithe hands, “Perhaps both.”

Ferdinand looked over to where Bernadetta and Hubert were still dancing. Perhaps him leaving would help to encourage her to stay with someone truly interested. He quickly took Lorenz’s hand and accepted the offer.

They left the reception and wandered in the direction of Ferdinand’s room. Ferdinand dared to let his fingers brush against Lorenz’s as they walked. Finally after too much teasing, Lorenz firmly took Ferdinand by the hand and leaned him against the wall, “Rather eager for someone living so undercover, aren’t you?”

Ferdinand stared for a few beats and then embraced Lorenz to kiss him right here in the open. Fuck being undercover. It wasn’t like being thirteen again. This was much more deliberate. They both knew what they were doing and they were frankly much better at it now.

Ferdinand whispered into Lorenz’s ear, “Show me what you’ve learned since the last time we met.”

“Still demanding aren’t you von Aegir?” teased Lorenz as he practically pinned Ferdinand to the wall. “What do you say?”

“ _Please_ ,” laughed Ferdinand as he felt Lorenz’s hand gliding up his thigh.

***

Well, this was a disaster. Bernie hid in the blankets of Dorothea’s bed while Dorothea tried in vain to coax her out of the blanket cave she’d made, “Bern, it’s fine, Hubert will dry off. We need to focus on your revenge against Ferdinand.”

“Revenge?” Bernie asked weakly. She wasn’t really the vengeful type, she was more of the ‘run away and never speak of this again’ type.

“Yes! You need to put him in his place,” insisted Dorothea.

Bernie shifted the blankets and pillows a bit so she could spy on Dorothea. “I don’t know.”

“I do! He should have told you he wasn’t interested,” said Dorothea as she smacked a fist into her palm.

“You told me he wasn’t,” moaned Bernadetta as she wished she had just listened to Edelgard and Dorothea. “I ignored the signs.”

“This isn’t your fault, this all Ferdinand and Hubert’s fault,” said Dorothea knowingly. “Literally everyone told Ferdie not to do this, but he came up with some dumb plan to fix things, and clearly it did not work.”

Bernie’s head emerged from the covers, “What was the plan?”

Dorothea grimaced, “He was trying to get you to break up with him. I think he was hoping Hubert would swoop in and romance you instead, so you’d leave Ferdie before he had to tell you.” Dorothea gently stroked Bernie’s hair, “But that plan rested on Hubert being romantic, and I don’t know what he said to you, but clearly he sucks at expressing feelings like a normal human—”

“It wasn’t what he said,” said Bernie softly as she struggled to remember what he’d said at all. He’d asked if she was enjoying herself, and she had been doing most of the talking. He had just been slow dancing with her, and it wasn’t even a complicated dance; he had more or less just been holding her. “We were just dancing.”

“Was he getting too bold with his hands?” demanded Dorothea. She sounded like she was going to go find Hubert and kick his ass.

“Uh, his hand was all over my back, I just figured he was having trouble getting used to how short I am,” said Bernadetta slowly. Or, maybe he’d just been unsure where it was okay to touch her.

“So what happened between dancing and throwing my martini in his face? Speaking of which, you owe me a drink,” said Dorothea.

“It was an open bar,” groaned Bernadetta. “You could have just gotten a new one!”

“What and look like a lush, no,” giggled Dorothea, who was clearly buzzed. “Come on Bern, just tell me exactly what he did, and I’ll put him in line for you if you need me to.”

Bernadetta buried her face in her hands. She could barely bring herself to whisper it, “He, he started to get an erection while dancing with me.”

Dorothea did not look as horrified as Bernie felt. Dorothea’s face contorted and while she was clearly trying to suppress it, she started cracking up. Bernadetta hit her with a pillow, “Stop laughing! This is mortifying!”

“Yeah, for Hubie,” said Dorothea as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh my, I knew he liked you but,” she couldn’t even finish the sentence she was giggling so much.

“But then he was practically burying his face in your chest!” protested Bernadetta. Even if he couldn’t control his body, he had control over that!

“Oh, I was hiding him from Shamir,” clarified Dorothea. “She’s seriously bad for him.” Dorothea hugged the pillow to her chest and sighed, “So you thought you turned Hubert on and then he went over and started hitting on me, so you threw a drink on him?”

Bernadetta’s brain had basically defaulted to everything she’d been taught: when men want sex, they just take it and leave you soiled without a second thought. Rationally, Bernadetta knew this was not the case, but the messages ingrained into her as a young woman were hard to shake. Bernadetta nodded weakly. “He probably hates me now.”

“Knowing Hubie, he probably just hates himself,” said Dorothea as she squeezed Bernadetta’s hand. “Thank you for valiantly trying to rescue me from Hubie’s boner. For the future, I could totally handle it.”

Now that Bernie was fully popped up from her blanket sanctuary, Dorothea started moving pillows. She kicked off her shoes and settled back to bring Bernadetta into a hug. Bernie sighed and felt surprisingly safe in Dorothea’s embrace; at least one friend wasn’t mad at her even if she did apparently owe her one martini now.

“Do you want me to tell Hubert you’re not interested?” asked Dorothea softly as she continued to stroke Bernadetta’s hair.

Bernie didn’t know what she wanted. She had been pretty convinced during the war that she’d accidentally quashed any interest Hubert had in her when she totally flinched away from his touch. She’d seen how embarrassed and hurt he’d looked as he watched her, and how quickly he had jumped back from her. He’d put a lot of space between them after that, and she’d rarely found herself with him alone after that during the war. When he started hooking up with Shamir, Bernie figured that any interest he may or may not have had in her was gone. Now she’d probably just done the same thing again, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Hubert was in Shamir’s arms right now.

“I haven’t given him any reason to be interested, I think I’ve given him plenty of reasons not to actually,” whispered Bernie. “He came to check on me at home, and I attacked him with a frying pan. I made him ride in a too cramped carriage all the way to Enbarr, and now I said I could make Edelgard a wedding dress, but I don’t know if I have enough time!”

“Well, he probably only came to check on you because he cares about you, and maybe he enjoyed being so close in a carriage with you,” suggested Dorothea with a wink. “And don’t worry about the wedding dress, the wedding isn’t for like, what, seven months?”

Dorothea did not sew. She clearly had no clue how long something like that could take, plus, it was for the Emperor! It had to be perfect! Bernie was stressed just thinking about it. “Still, Hubert likes really brave women! He was with Shamir, he went on vacation with you—”

“What! You think Hubert and I went on vacation together _together_?” demanded Dorothea in shock. She looked down at Bernadetta with a smirk, “As if. I went to Brigid to visit Petra, and let Hubie crash my trip because he clearly needed a break from doing the Emperor’s bidding.”

“So it was just a trip, not anything more?” asked Bernie quietly. Strangely she felt no jealousy about Dorothea going to Brigid to hook up with Petra but had been very bothered by the idea of Dorothea with Hubert; what did that mean?

“Yes,” insisted Dorothea. She sighed and squeezed Bernadetta, “And what’s this about him only liking brave women? You’re totally brave!”

“No I’m not,” whispered Bernadetta as she tried to sink back into the safety of the blankets.

“Uh, you’re the blazing babe of Gronder Field,” insisted Dorothea. “Like anyone else really wanted to be up there, you basically made the Emperor let you be on that ballista, it was amazing. Caspar said you had the biggest balls of all the Black Eagles after we got out of the tent to go to the battlefield.”

“Well it didn’t feel great when everything went wrong,” said Bernie.

“Wrong? You saved Petra, and you almost sacrificed yourself to do it, if that’s not brave, well, I don’t know what is,” said Dorothea confidently.

Bernadetta almost wanted to believe her. “Yeah but then we got captured—”

“Better than dying,” said Dorothea. That was true. “And it’s not like you begged to be set free! Petra said you wouldn’t even speak at first, you were holding out in case they were trying to get info from you!”

Bernie had been in a more or less catatonic panic during their first couple days of capture, but no reason to correct Dorothea’s flattering misinterpretation. Dorothea continued to soothe her. “Look, I know Hubert is quite taken with you, by his own admission. He’s also clearly physically attracted to you,” teased Dorothea as she poked at Bernie with her finger. She got a little serious, “He wants to court you, but let’s face it, this is Hubert, he has no experience and he’s not exactly romantic. If you’re not interested, we can just tell him, it’s not like this would be the first time he got rejected.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bernie curiously.

“Um,” started Dorothea reluctantly as if realizing she’d said more than she ought to. “When the war was done, he sort of told Edelgard about how he loved her, romantically, and obviously she didn’t feel the same. His trip to Brigid was about getting over her. He mostly hung out on the beach, drank too much with me, and cried on my shoulder.”

“Oh,” whispered Bernadetta quietly. Now he was stuck planning Edelgard’s wedding? That seemed extra rough.

“Being rejected by someone you’re really into is never easy, but it happens,” said Dorothea knowingly.

“Yeah, like finding out your new boyfriend wants a boyfriend,” sighed Bernadetta. Oh Ferdie, dumb Ferdie. “I should have ditched him when you told me to.”

“You’re not the first person to ignore advice about a romantic partner,” said Dorothea sympathetically. “If I had a gold coin for every bad first date I’ve been on, well, I couldn’t retire, but I’d be a lot closer to it!” Dorothea paused, “Does he know you saw him making out with Lorenz?”

“I don’t think so,” said Bernie. She had been pretty stealthy and Ferdinand had been rather preoccupied. Talk about erections! Bernie couldn’t unsee what she’d seen.

“You need to break up with him super dramatically tomorrow morning,” begged Dorothea. “Don’t out him or anything, but you need to embarrass him at breakfast tomorrow. Break up with him in front of everyone! Hopefully he’ll never try a stunt like this again.”

Bernie imagined herself slapping Ferdinand in the face with a pancake and yelling for everyone to hear, “ _You know what you did!_ ” That’s what he deserved. They began to hatch a plan of how this was going to go down.

***

Hubert wondered how his night could possibly get worse. He opened the door to his room and was greeted to a rather comprehensive view of Lorenz on top of Ferdinand. Ferdinand and Hubert made a brief mortified moment of eye contact before Hubert was able to close the door again and look around the hall. He was apparently not the only person having trouble turning in for the night. Hubert ran into Linhardt looking traumatized and clutching his pillow, “Hilda just barged into my room carrying Caspar and kicked me out.”

Hubert gave Linhardt a sympathetic shoulder pat but declined to elaborate on what he had just seen. “Let’s try Petra’s room,” said Hubert reluctantly, knowing that Bernadetta was staying with Edelgard. There was a non-zero chance Dorothea was currently doing Petra, but Hubert would rather face that than Bernadetta.

He cautiously knocked on the door and Petra answered. “Oh you are the last person that we are wanting to be seeing,” she said cheerfully as she invited the pair inside. Hubert wished he had tried Edelgard’s instead as Bernadetta looked up in shock from Dorothea’s bed where she was presently being comforted.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Behind him, Linhardt was already claiming a sleeping spot on Petra’s bed. Dorothea was no stranger to drama and acted as a mediator, “Bern, Hubie, maybe you two should have a conversation, privately.”

Bernadetta looked like that was the very last thing she wanted but Dorothea wasn’t really giving her a choice. Hubert wasn’t much more enthusiastic about the prospect but agreed that a lot had happened in a rather short amount of time, “Maybe we can sit in the hall and talk?”

“M-maybe on either side of the door,” suggested Bernadetta.

Hubert gingerly stepped out and took a seat as he tried to ignore all the dust he imagined was on the floor of this castle. He wondered where he should even start. He could hear Bernadetta settling on the other side of the door to the room. His heart sank at the idea of how much she didn’t want to be near him. Hubert sighed and leaned his head against the barrier between them, “I apologize for making you uncomfortable when we danced, that was an accident.”

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” said Bernadetta in a small voice. “And I’m sorry I threw Dorothea’s drink on you. I just, I wasn’t expecting you to you know, feel that way about me.” He could hear her wiping her nose.

“Um, yes,” said Hubert softly. There was no point in lying; his cock had sold him out. He found Bernadetta attractive on many levels. She was a nice person and a good friend. She was downright cute in a way that melted even his hardened heart. She had a rich array of interests outside of war. She had a ton of fears, but that just made Hubert want to wrap her up in his arms and be the one to keep her safe. As her confidence grew in the war she’d also gotten surprisingly sexy as well, hence his dick acting like a dowsing rod even as his heart and brain were screaming _“No you idiot, don’t scare her off!”_.

“Why did you let me think Ferdinand was courting me?” demanded Bernadetta.

Hubert’s own throat was a little tight as he drummed his fingers on his knees. He took a deep breath, “I knew you wanted to have a date to the wedding, so I suggested that Ferdinand could go with you to this, and in exchange he could take you to tea with his parents, because he’s afraid they’ll disown him if they find out about his preferences.” Hubert shut his eyes, “I told him to tell you what was happening, but he’d like as few people as possible to know.”

“Thanks a lot,” she whispered harshly. “You should have told me when he wouldn’t.”

Hubert sighed, “I, um, yes, I should have.”

“So why didn’t you?” He could practically hear her glaring at him.

He was used to her being scared of him, he was used to her laughing at him, but he wasn’t used to her being angry with him. He felt like he’d really earned this too, which wasn’t helping. Hubert rubbed his face, “Ferdinand wanted to solve things his way, and if I told you first he was going to tell you what I had done.”

“And that would be?” Bernie’s words were icy.

Hubert’s voice was as small as possible, “I wrote the letter.”

Bernadetta said nothing. That was somehow worse than her actually saying something.

“I’m really sorry,” whispered Hubert as he stared at his feet.

“Did you mean it or was that fake too?” asked Bernadetta with an empty twinge to her words.

“I meant every word,” he managed to whisper. He doubted she would find the words as beautiful now that she knew who the real writer was.

“Then why wouldn’t you just tell me yourself?”

“Because I scare you,” he said, though it hurt to admit it. “And why would you want to be with me, when it is myself that is so frightening?” He gently freed the martini-soaked flower patch she’d made him, and held it in the palm of his hand before passing it under the door to her, “I know this flower you made me barely improves things for you, and yet I cling to it hoping that one day you will wake up and actually like the sound of my laugh, or enjoy looking at my face. I can’t change those things about myself, so I have tried to change your reaction, but maybe we’re just stuck this way.”

There was silence for a while from the other side of the door. Bernadetta cleared her throat. It was pretty hard to make out all her words but he caught the end loud and clear, “I think you should go now.”

Hubert swallowed uneasily as he realized he wasn’t getting his embroidered flower back. His favor had been revoked. He stumbled back to his room and prepared to kick Lorenz out, but luckily only Ferdinand remained.

“I am very sorry about earlier,” said Ferdinand awkwardly.

Hubert said nothing as he got ready for bed. He didn’t want to talk to Ferdinand at all, and von Aegir quickly got the hint.

***

Bernadetta’s eyes narrowed in on Ferdinand in the great dining hall peacefully enjoying his post-wedding brunch. Oh, this guy had no idea the massive pile of shit he was sitting on. Bernie pushed up her sleeves and gathered her breakfast. She let her tray drop across from Ferdinand who looked up in surprise and then brightly said, “Good morning Bernadetta.”

“Oh, oh is it a good morning?” she asked as she took her seat. Ferdinand had left before drama descended upon the reception hall, and it was unlikely he’d been caught up on all that had occurred. Dorothea had told her to channel her anger like when she’d very publicly broken up with Caspar. Bernie had done it once, she could do it again!

“Why did you abandon me last night?” she asked as she started to cut her sausages. Normally she’d do little chops but today she was surgically cutting them lengthwise as threateningly as possible.

Ferdinand paled, “A-abandon! Oh Bernadetta, I saw how much you were enjoying dancing with Hubert and I uh, was, very sleepy so I went to bed! I thought you were in good hands.”

Bernadetta gave an unconvinced hum, “Sleepy, right. Well, since you didn’t hear yet, Hubert is not a good dance partner. In fact, he was downright obscene in his advances and my only option was to throw a drink on him. To think, your own best friend would dare make a pass at your girlfriend!” She and Dorothea had been running these lines last night and this morning, and Bernadetta was proud of her own wonderful acting.

Ferdinand gulped and then quickly drank some tea rather than speak. Bernadetta sighed and continued, “I couldn’t believe it! I told him we couldn’t even be friends anymore and that I never wanted to speak to him again.”

Ferdinand was so white he looked like he might actually be a secret ghost. “Surely this is all a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know, I did give him an erection, he clearly was lusting after me,” said Bernadetta as she flared her nostrils and stabbed a slice of sausage.

“Oh my,” whispered Ferdinand.

“I would like you to duel him, for my honor of course,” continued Bernadetta. She maintained eye contact as she took a big bite of sausage. Hm, clearly reindeer! She swallowed the gamy meat with a straight face and washed it down with a nice gulp of tea.

“A duel?”

“To the death,” supplied Bernadetta. “It’s only right, I’m sure you can take him. You’re in much better physical condition.”

Ferdinand’s mouth moved but no words came out. Bernadetta sighed and set down her teacup, “He even went so far as to suggest you weren’t even in a real relationship with me. He tried to take credit for your love letter! I didn’t want to hear it.” She pulled Hubert’s floral favor from her pocket. It was looking threadbare, and she wanted to repair it for him, but there was no sense in not using it as a prop, “I had to ask for this back! To think this whole time he was just wearing it because he has a crush on me, pathetic.”

“Oh,” managed Ferdinand in a clear state of panic. Bernadetta cheerfully ate her brunch and allowed the silence to grow.

Ferdinand cleared his throat and stared at his half-finished plate. “Bernadetta, I, I need to tell you something.” He looked up at her and appeared as if he might start to cry at any moment, “I believe I have made a grave mistake.”

Bernie raised one eyebrow and waited. Ferdinand swallowed uneasily, “Uh, I, um, Hubert was not wrong.” Bernadetta said nothing. Little beads of sweat had formed on von Aegir’s handsome head, “I may have been courting you under false pretenses.”

“What?” Bernie let her lip tremble for full effect.

Ferdinand made some sound that was not quite a word. He grimaced, “I clearly let this go too far, Hubert begged me to tell you from the start, but I brought you to tea with my parents so that they,” his voice became a very tiny whisper. “Would not know that I am interested in men.”

“What?!” Bernie gasped and a good number of Garreg Mach alumni turned their heads in curiosity.

“I am so, so sorry, this is, truly terrible conduct,” said Ferdinand gravely as he watched her. “I should have never done this. It was disrespectful of your feelings, it was an abuse of our friendship, and I do not know if I can do anything to make it right. All I can do is apologize and beg your forgiveness.”

Bernadetta stared at him for an awkwardly long time. She then took a sip of tea, “Thank you for your honesty Ferdinand.”

“What?”

Bernadetta dropped her voice to a whisper, “Dorothea and Edelgard both tried to warn me, and I thought, no, surely Ferdinand would not do this to me. But, last night, after I freaked out at Hubert, I ran into you, but I think you were a little distracted.”

“Oh, what did you see?” Ferdinand asked weakly.

“I saw you have a thing for purple hair,” she snapped. Bernadetta got serious, “This was really hurtful Ferdie.”

“Is there anything I could do to even remotely make this up to you?”

She paused as if deep in thought even though she knew exactly what she wanted. “Could you transfer my father from house arrest to prison?” she asked brightly.

“Uh, I’m sure I can find a way!” said Ferdinand enthusiastically.

“Okay, that’s what I would like,” she said plainly as she got back to her brunch. She paused and reflected, “And maybe some ‘I’m so sorry’ chocolates and flowers or something.”

As far as break-ups had gone for her, this one probably had the greatest outcome. Her heart hurt, but her spirits were amazingly lifted. Her father was going to prison! She had managed to keep herself together through the whole thing! She even now had someone who liked her, for real this time, she just needed to figure out how she felt in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like post-time skip Bernie has a lot more confidence than pre-time skip Bernie and could totally pull one over on Ferdinand with Dorothea cheering her on from the sidelines. 
> 
> Also I have never used this many exclamation points ever. There are 445 at last count. That's insane.


	21. Noble Roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert learns the strike force has a nickname for him, he does not like it.  
> Bernadetta isn't the only one feeling the pressure of a looming deadline.

Hubert had no flower. Hubert had no flower. That realization kept echoing through his mind as he passed by reflective surfaces or glimpsed Bernadetta in the distance. He hadn’t heard what she had said before their doorway blocked conversation came to a close. It could have been “ _Let me fix this_ ” meaning Bernadetta was offering to repair where the decorative favor was looking rather worn, or “ _Let’s not fix this_ ” meaning that there was nothing Hubert could do to try and salvage things. While Hubert really hoped it was the former, as more time passed and Bernadetta continued to avoid him, he was beginning to fear it was the latter.

“She’s just really busy Hubert,” insisted Edelgard when Bernadetta did not show for dinner, again. “I’m sure she’s not actively avoiding you.”

They’d been back in Enbarr for a week and Hubert had barely seen Bernadetta. He was not convinced that she was adhering to normal standards of meals and sleep and decided that whether or not she wanted to see him, he had to make sure she was fed and watered.

He knew Edelgard had a dress fitting that afternoon, “Can you please make sure she’s eating?”

The Emperor sighed and rolled her eyes at him, “Yes _Nanny Vestra_. I was planning on taking tea with her anyway, I’ll make sure to leave a few extra sandwiches and cakes since you’re so worried.”

Nanny Vestra! Was Hubert really _that_ overbearing? “Your majesty, did you just call me Nanny Vestra?”

Edelgard blushed and quickly backtracked, “Hubert, I, sorry, Linhardt started calling you that in the war, and it, well, it stuck.”

“Does everyone call me that behind my back?” asked Hubert quietly as a sinking sensation pulled at his stomach.

“No, no,” insisted Edelgard in a thinly veiled lie. “Only Linhardt and Caspar, and occasionally myself, and Ferdinand.” She grimaced at being caught, “It’s a compliment! You take such good care of everyone—”

“Your majesty, may I please be excused? I have some errands to run in town,” lied Hubert.

“Oh of course, please,” begged Edelgard, clearly also uncomfortable at his reaction.

Hubert rushed to get out of the palace, and found himself heading into a snow fall. He grumbled as he pulled his cape collar up and wished he had the foresight to have grabbed a hat instead of just his shopping bag. Whatever. He wasn’t going far. Hubert was heading towards his favorite grocer for a pick-me-up: coffee. Nanny Vestra, really. Of all the insults to label him with, this one managed to rile him most. Their enemies had plenty of nasty nicknames for the Black Eagle Strike Force members, but he never thought his own team had one for him.

Nanny Vestra. It probably seemed harmless to his friends, but the name was under his skin quicker than a splinter. It took him straight back to his father punishing him when he was apprehended while running away to Faerghus after Edelgard was taken during the Insurrection.

Hubert was ten. He was a little tall for his age, but far too skinny to have any serious chance at winning a fight. While he was used to getting hit, that particular evening had been especially painful. He’d managed to get out of Enbarr, and onto the road towards Fhirdiad. He’d made it all of three days before his father’s rough associates hunted him down. He was filthy from hiding out in muddy ditches, and beaten into submission, as he was dropped at his father’s feet.

“What did you think you were going to possibly achieve with this little stunt?” demanded the Marquis as he stared down at his quivering son.

“I have to find the princess, I’m supposed to go where she goes,” said Hubert through his tears as he pulled himself up from the flagstones. She’d been taken in the night when he wasn’t at the palace to protect her, and Hubert just knew if he had been there things would be different because maybe he could have convinced her uncle to take him too. If anything happened to her it would be Hubert’s fault because he wasn’t there to keep her safe.

All his years of training and service were screaming inside his heart and threatening to rip him apart. He had failed in his most basic responsibility. He had failed Edelgard and surely there would be consequences. Hubert dried his eyes on his sleeve, “I’m her vassal, it’s my duty to protect her.”

“You were never anything more than a glorified nanny,” hissed Marquis von Vestra. “Princess Edelgard will be fine without you, she’s with her mother and uncle. She’ll get a new vassal, a new babysitter. I’m sure she’ll have a nice life up in that frozen wasteland, and knowing Lord Arundel, she’ll probably even marry a prince. Trust me, she’s never giving you a second thought—”

“That’s not true!” protested Hubert. They were best friends, of course she had to miss him as much as he missed her.

The Marquis backhanded his son, “Do not call me a liar.”

Hubert said nothing as he felt his face stinging with a hot pain. His father _was_ a liar, but his mother wasn’t here to help shield him from his father’s retribution anymore, and so he had to be careful. He had asked once what his father did for a living and his mother had pulled him aside and warned him, “Smart boys ask smart questions Hubert, and the smartest boys don’t need to ask at all.” His father wasn’t going to give him any useful truths. Hubert was going to have to discover those for himself.

“She wasn’t your friend, she was a Hresvelg and you are a Vestra. You were her assigned minder, nothing more,” said Marquis von Vestra slowly. “Hubert, by some twist of fate you are my heir, so you have an important job to learn here in Enbarr. Forget Princess Edelgard, she’s not coming back, and she’s better for it.” His father paused and dared to smile darkly down at his son, “Someday you may even thank me for what I’ve done for you.”

Hubert’s hands curled in to fists as he fought to keep his mouth shut. Hubert hung his head and focused instead on trying to appear how his father wanted. He did not want his father’s job, at all, but there was still a chance he could get out of it if he could just bide his time. Hubert missed his mother and his brother, but a new half sibling might mean a different heir, and then maybe his father would forget about him all together. Perhaps his stepmother would hate him and want him gone. Maybe then he could just disappear without being hunted down. Then he could go find Edelgard.

He kept his green eyes on the floor as he considered this treason against his own family. It was best to look repentant. He couldn’t stop the tears presently rolling from his eyes, but hopefully his father would mistake them for shame over his actions, and not just from the burning sensation of the bruise forming on his face. He forced his fists to unfurl. He had to look his part. 

“We are in uncertain times Hubert,” continued the Marquis. “Since your brother died, you are the future of house Vestra. I was remiss in not starting your training for this possibility earlier. You will be Minister of the Imperial Household. It is better than being a soldier, son, I promise. Instead of fighting blindly in wars, you’ll be stopping them before they can even start.”

Hubert did not believe him. In time though, he learned he was just training to become a very different sort of soldier. He still had to kill enemies of the state, but they didn’t wear the uniforms of foreign armies. They were scheming nobles, rebellious commoners, foreign politicians. They didn’t die by his slim decorative rapier, but they were ended easily enough by poisons, by knives, and by magic. His father taught him the importance of preparing one’s own food, and of not accepting offered beverages. Tea leaves were perfect for slipping poison into a pot, and a proper tea party was the ideal time to line the lip of a teacup with something sinister. The Vestras drank coffee because it was uncommon among the nobility and so no one had it waiting. In time, Hubert grew to enjoy the beverage that the other nobles he had to interact with turned their noses up at. He felt coffee embodied him: dark, acidic, and having no place in polite company.

His father had been wrong of course. Hubert hadn’t avoided a war, he actively plotted one and had thrived in his role. Now there was no war, only a difficult peace. His job was no longer killing enemies but killing off items on a to-do list around the palace. There was no re-balancing the scales of justice, just balancing ledgers to keep poor Adrestia from going completely under as they paid their reparations and tried to rebuild. The only rats he exterminated these days were of the furry variety, so that they could not scare his Emperor. He felt useless in this role. He felt…like a nanny, and the epic failure of their war stung at him every day.

At least Enbarr still stood. Despite the snow the people of the city were still hustling and bustling about finishing their afternoon shopping so they could get home for dinner. Hubert was happy to get into the warmth of his favorite grocer. He got his coffee beans, and paused at the bread. Well, if Bernadetta wasn’t bothering to attend dinner, maybe Hubert didn’t need to either. Maybe he ought to just leave Edelgard to the mercy of Ferdinand and Lorenz, who was apparently staying at the alliance embassy waiting out the snow.

Hubert lived in private apartments within the palace, and he could do some basic cooking in there. He grabbed fresh pasta and some hard cheese, eggs, a little cured ham, and basil. He’d eat alone and spare himself the question of if his friends had any other monikers for him. They probably had a bunch, and none of them were likely to be as nice as _Hubie_.

Hubert grumbled to himself as he walked back in the snow. He finally took cover beneath an awning and cursed the sky. He really should have brought a hat or a scarf, his ears were absolutely freezing. He glanced at the shop he was currently taking refuge at. It appeared to be a rather grandmotherly establishment. Hubert spied quilts and tuffets, delicate fingerling lace shawls, and mittens. Perhaps they sold hats, and Hubert dared to venture in.

It was a quaint shop, and clearly targeted at an older middle to upper class demographic. The shopkeeper rushed to the register, “Hello! Can I help you?”

She looked like a storybook granny, a nice one rather than a villainous one, and she had come from a knitting circle of little old women by the store’s fireplace. Hubert felt badly that he’d tracked snow into their little shop, and apologetically tried to wipe his feet on the mat, “I was wondering if you sold any caps.”

“Well we sell all the ingredients to make them,” tried the sales granny as she gestured to a wall of wool skeins.

Hubert sighed as he realized the items in the window were all projects, and this was a craft store. “I’m afraid I’ll be here all night if I go that route. Thank you though.” He made to leave.

“Wait, are you sure you don’t want anything to occupy yourself with by the fire? With all this snow coming down, it might be the right time to learn how to knit!” She was eager and Hubert wondered if the shop had made any sales at all in this weather.

Hubert looked around at all the various sized knitting needles. Occupying time was the least of his worries. Knitting seemed a nice, practical skill but not one he saw himself picking up any time soon. He didn’t really have any hobbies. He wasn’t artistic, he didn’t have time for fiction, and he had the musical talents of a rock...only good for percussion.

“Maybe a gift for your wife?” tried the persistent sales granny.

“I don’t have a wife,” said Hubert as he continued to look around. He had no wife, no partner, no flower. Hubert cleared his throat, “How hard is it to learn embroidery?”

Upon the whiff of selling a poor schmuck on a new hobby, Hubert found himself the target of a whole host of aggressively entrepreneurial old ladies. They started piling ‘essentials’ into a basket and cooed with excitement for him and his project. Hubert left the shop with plenty of colorful thread, needles, a hoop, some cloth, and finally an instructional pamphlet aimed at primary school aged girls. The grannies were very happy to have made the sale, and welcomed him to come to their craft circle if he ever needed help. He hoped it would not come to that.

***

Bernadetta carefully pinned the fabric in place on the rather still Emperor. Oh Bernie, do not prick the Emperor. That might be an executable offense.

Edelgard was staring out the window at the continuing snow fall. It had started not long after they got back to the capital and showed no signs of stopping. It was a lovely fluffy looking snow. Bernadetta was itching to paint the scene, but she had a job to do.

“Is everything alright?” asked Bernadetta softly as she worked. She enjoyed silence, but Edelgard hadn’t spoken in a long time. It was actually getting a little unnerving. What if she was secretly mad about how things were looking?!

“Oh?” Edelgard’s attention seemed to come back from somewhere far away. “Sorry, I was just thinking about my family.” She glanced down at Bernadetta, “You’re an only child, right?”

“Not for lack of effort on my father’s part,” grumbled Bernadetta as she started on the hem. She hoped his new prison cell was extra cold when he got there.

“I had many siblings once,” said Edelgard. She was looking back at the snow, “We used to play out in the snow for hours. Hubert and I would go sledding and he would run me up the hill faster than my brothers’ vassals so that I could sled more than them.” She took a deep breath, “I guess he’s the only other person who even remembers them at this point.”

Edelgard’s father had passed in the war, and Bernadetta had heard whispers of what had happened to Edelgard’s siblings. It wasn’t something she felt like she could really ask about. Edelgard continued, “My mother did not enjoy the snow, I find it ironic she ended up in Faerghus after the insurrection.”

“Is she still alive?” asked Bernie hopefully.

“Highly doubtful,” sighed Edelgard. “I used to believe that my mother was unique among noble women in Fodlan because she married for love.” Edelgard’s fond smile turned bitter, “Yet she had to marry another man for political protection, and in the end, that did not turn out well.”

“My parents had a bad marriage,” said Bernie softly.

“I am aware,” said Edelgard as she looked down at her friend. “Your mother was one of my earliest supporters, back when I was still the Flame Emperor.”

“How did she even get connected to you?” It was not as if Count von Varley let his women out of sight. Bernie had always wondered how her mother had pulled off her deception.

“You did have to travel quite a bit to go to all those magnificent balls,” said Edelgard carefully. “And while your father was pushing you at potential husbands, your mother was looking increasingly angry in the shadows. She wasn’t alone there.”

Bernadetta looked up, completely lost in the Emperor’s vague description. Edelgard smiled, “I had Hubert as my eyes and ears at the fringes of the court. His father took him all around to various meetings and gatherings of those who carried out the Insurrection. He’s not a people person, but he’s observant. He finds the cracks, and I apply the pressure. That is how he and I have always worked.”

“You two are very close,” said Bernie quietly. Bernadetta tried to focus on finishing the hem and not her building insecurity. Dorothea had said Hubert was probably over Edelgard, but what if he wasn’t? Bernie tried to pile up a bunch of unrelated thoughts over that.

Bernadetta rose and gestured to the mirror, “Ta-da!”

Edelgard clapped, “Wonderful!”

It would be more wonderful if this was the finished dress and not just the draft made in cotton. Bernadetta carefully marked out the fitting adjustments and then removed the muslin. Edelgard put back on her clothes and sent for tea to be brought up for them. “Oh you’re staying?” asked Bernadetta nervously as Edelgard took a seat at Bernie’s little table.

“I thought it would be fun to chat,” suggested Edelgard. The Emperor almost seemed nervous.

“Sure,” said Bernadetta with equal hesitance as she took her chair. The Emperor was taking private tea in Bernie’s room, no big deal.

“So,” said Edelgard awkwardly as she looked around.

“Mmmhmm,” managed Bernadetta.

The two women started to ask questions at the same time, then each insisted that the other go first. Edelgard cleared her throat and took the lead, “I was just going to ask if you were enjoying Enbarr so far.”

“Oh, sure!” said Bernadetta. “I mean, the snow is lovely to look at but it’s kind of, restricting. But I’m enjoying the fire, and I wouldn’t mind some cocoa.”

“Cocoa, what a wonderful idea,” murmured Edelgard. “I should have ordered that brought up instead of tea.”

Oh wow, how had she managed to disappoint the Emperor so quickly, think Bernie, fast! “Uh we could save it for later! Cocoa’s a great dessert.”

Edelgard nodded as the tea trolley was brought to them, and servants quickly set the table. Edelgard sipped her tea and then bit her lip, “Bernadetta, I apologize, I do not have many close friends at all, and I am afraid this is not something that comes naturally to me.”

Bernadetta blushed, “Well, you’re better off than Bernie!” She laughed weakly and then used her tea as an excuse to stop.

“Can I confide in you about something, sensitive?” asked Edelgard quietly.

Oh goddess, oh no. Bernie felt her head nodding yes even though her gut was saying _“Maybe don’t!”_. Edelgard sighed, “I am uncertain about this marriage.”

OH. “Any specific reason?”

“I just don’t know Claude, at all,” sighed Edelgard as she clutched her teacup. “I always knew that a political marriage was in my future, but now that’s it’s here, it’s much harder to stomach.” Edelgard sighed and forced a smile, “At least our war helped lessen the power of crest based pairings. I rest a little easier knowing that I have protected people from that.”

“Well, from one crest bride to another, thanks,” said Bernie in a poorly executed attempt to be funny. Bernie, what are you doing, this is an Emperor, you can’t joke with her—

Edelgard chuckled softly. “Ah yes, while being a crestless noble is far from an easy road, at least it’s clear. My only real references are Hubert and Caspar, and both were raised to be soldiers. Born to die for the Empire. As for crested women, such as you, Mercedes, or Ingrid, it was always marriage this marriage that.”

Bernie tried not to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but indeed, from as early as she could remember, marriage was the only thing that Bernadetta had been taught mattered. Her interests, her hobbies, the little things that made her smile, none of that meant a thing to her father. She wasn’t a person to him, she had only ever been a prized possession to barter and trade with.

“Do you have to get married?” asked Bernadetta quietly. It seemed rather unfair that this was how the peace was being decided. Byleth and Dimitri loved each other, they might have been wed with or without this treaty. Claude and Edelgard had been pushed together. Just because their visions for Fodlan were similar didn’t mean they would make a good romantic match. They were practically strangers.

Edelgard looked sad, “Yes, I believe I must see this through, for the good of the country.” Edelgard sighed and glanced at the stacks of embroidered flowers Bernadetta was making. They would be arranged and sewn on once the full dress was finished; it would look better if Bernie could just embroider right on the dress, but there was literally no time for that, so she was making due. Edelgard gave a teasing flick of her hair, “At least I will look fabulous when the big day comes.”

Bernie sincerely hoped that was true. Edelgard smiled softly, “Thank you for listening Bernadetta. It’s difficult to talk about this with anyone; so few people understand the kinds of messages we grew up with being noble women. I can’t possibly tell Hubert after all the work he’s put in to organizing things. I tried to talk to Dorothea but she doesn’t quite understand what it was like to know that an arranged marriage was inevitable. Ferdinand, well, he’s sympathetic but ultimately he’s not the one responsible for seeing this peace through.”

“Well I’m honored to be your confidant,” said Bernie honestly. It was a little frightful, but nice, to be the ear the Emperor turned to.

***

After his dinner — a perfectly executed carbonara for one — Hubert decided to tackle this new hobby he’d just invested in. He had an illustrated book from the library on plants of Fodlan, and his pages were set to the carnivorous plant section. Hubert was holding the hoop rather close to his face and frowning at it. Every few minutes he would let out a yelp as he stabbed himself, again, with the needle. He sighed, nanny Vestra, more like granny Vestra. This was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't be the only person who learned how to make carbonara after playing the sims as a kid and wondering what the heck goopy carbonara was right?


	22. An Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta oversleeps on an important day.

Hubert woke in his armchair from a rather difficult to enjoy dream. A sex dream on its surface was always welcome since Hubert didn’t have those too frequently, but when it was of Shamir specifically telling him to be behind her so she didn’t have to look at his face, well, that was classic Shamir in a nutshell. His dick woke up hard, as it so often did, but it almost seemed apologetic for using that source material. He could forgive its confusion, his own heart had taken its sweet time to figure out that delicate balance between enjoying intimacy and walking away from Shamir’s teasing. There were probably people out there that thrived on such humiliation, but Hubert definitely wasn’t one of them.

Hubert groaned and wondered why his mouth was so dry and his neck hurt so much as the pieces of his night fell into place. The empty wine glass was the culprit for his mild hangover, and the embroidery project combined with passing out in his chair was the cause of this neck ailment. If Hubert squinted, his little embroidered mess almost looked like a flytrap now that he’d been working on it for a while. The back of the hoop looked downright awful but the front looked passable for a first try. Hubert had been reading all flytrap plants and he could now see their appeal. Hubert had a lot of trouble relating to other people, but the plight of the carnivorous plant was resonating with him. It surprised him that Bernadetta liked something so…bloodthirsty, but he appreciated the idea of a plant that didn’t fit in with other plants, a plant that wanted to be something more _deadly_. Unfortunately his day could not be spent idling in the library learning more though, he always had plenty to do. Hubert carefully set his relaxing embroidery project aside and got up to get ready for the day.

People often joked he was a vampire, if they only knew. Looking in the mirror after his shower he suspected he was something closer to a werewolf. Hubert shaved daily, and it had been quite an embarrassment when he lost his folding razor at school. Everyone jested he had it to murder someone, but the truth was much more pedestrian: he just grew hair really fast and it was dark against his too pale skin. Thankfully Byleth returned his razor to him without question. She was good about that; she’d once found one of his gross handkerchiefs when he was having a cold. He hadn’t even missed it in his sick haze with the way they were dropping from his pockets, but Byleth returned it washed and folded. She gave him spare owl feathers when his quills were looking rather blunt, and she even invited him to tea once and made him sample all the flavors to figure out what he liked. She was a good professor, and he’d even started to trust her a bit before she disappeared. Now she was Archbishop of the Church and Queen of Faerghus, how the times had changed.

Hubert frowned at his reflection and sighed. He was not handsome but he was trying. Dorothea had convinced him to have a skincare routine after the disastrous sunburn he’d gotten during their vacation. He’d peeled like a cicada shedding it’s husk and Dorothea had quickly slapped lotion on him. Maybe he could get Bernadetta to overlook his sharp features if he had really smooth skin. He looked at the status of his under-eye bags, and was delighted that they weren’t quite as dark as during the war. His eyes were still the same, Nemesis-green as Seteth had once phrased it during a detention. Hubert had smirked at the comment, however unlikely, and suggested maybe they were related. Seteth had not found that very funny.

Hubert picked out his outfit for the day. This was a blind process anymore, he didn’t get clothes that didn’t match his other things. He sighed realizing he still hadn’t gotten to his tailor to get an order for a new suit for Edelgard’s wedding. Just one more thing on his to-do list. Maybe he ought to just get it done early today, then he could stop putting it off.

***

Bernie woke in a pile of blankets when she rolled over and smacked her hand into her pincushion. OUCH. Bernie, what are you doing, pin cushions need to live on the nightstand, not the bed, how many times do you need to teach yourself this lesson? There were little bits of thread in her hair, and her snips were perched dangerously close to her eyes. Okay Bernie, maybe the pincushion was the lesser evil of things she could have bumped into. She needed a project caddy but there was no time to make that!

She estimated she had completed a quarter of the needed flowers. Bernie squinted at her calendar, mid Ethereal moon, that meant, what, roughly six months until the big day? Could she keep working on the dress even during the rehearsal dinner? Bernie was going to find out. She looked again at the calendar on her wall, why was today circled in red…Bernie felt a sinking sensation going through her stomach and hopped from her bed to run over. Oh no, no, no how did she possibly forget this was today?! She looked at her little clock, she was going to be late!

Bernie sped into the shower and scrubbed like she had a demonic beast on her tail. She didn’t need to wash her hair today, besides there was no time to dry it. It looked good enough, and that’s what hats were for! Bernie hustled to dry off and ran to her closet. Oh mom, why so many fancy dresses? She needed something somber, more serious and conservative. Nothing too short, nothing too low cut. Bernie pushed her clothes with great might to reveal a smashed garment in the back. A long gray dress greeted her and she hurriedly put it on. Oh shit, this was the one with all the buttons. She grabbed the little black bustier that went with it and then the long sleeved black bolero jacket. She looked in the mirror; she looked like a proper reserved noble woman come to perform an audit, perfect. She grabbed her warm black wool cape and some leather gloves and looked in horror at her hair.

One black bonnet later, Bernie was hiking her skirts and hauling ass through the palace. When she got to the entrance she looked out, and realized she had no idea where she was going in Enbarr. Bernie brought her gloved hands up and tried not to cry, she was going to miss her father’s prison sentence being handed down because she woke up late and didn’t know where the courthouse was.

“Bernadetta?” came the familiar deep voice of Hubert right behind her. Hubert would know where this was!

She spun and faced him as the words poured out, “Father, prison sentence, don’t know directions, late!”

Hubert stared at her in confusion as he knit his brows together trying to figure out what she was talking about. He looked at his watch, “When do you need to be there?”

“In a half hour,” whined Bernie.

“Alright come on,” said Hubert as he led the way.

“But wait, where are you going?”

“Just to my tailor, it can wait, I don’t even have an appointment,” said Hubert guiltily as he ushered her along. The snow had been shoveled creating narrow channels over the sidewalks, and the streets were full of slush.

Hubert took her hand as he navigated them around snow drifts and tight corners. They slipped and slid as they tried to rush and once or twice Hubert had to lift Bernie over a particularly tall pile of snow. They got to the courthouse steps with just minutes to spare. Hubert and Bernadetta got into the small room just in time for the proceedings to start.

Bernie put on a brave face as she stared at her father. Hubert murmured an apology as he released her hand, but Bernie was taking comfort from it and grabbed it back. Hubert said nothing but gave her a small squeeze.

Her father was looking especially grim. The judge was describing the charges against him that put him under house arrest in the first place. Her father liked to overcharge his tenants, under report yearly earnings, and had conveniently forgotten to pay his taxes for years. Then there was the matter of the Insurrection, and some new evidence that had come to light.

“You are accused of poisoning your own brother as well as killing his wife in order to inherit his position,” said the judge as he looked at the paper.

Bernadetta tensed as she recalled the way her poor uncle had been chatting at lunch and then just fell into his bowl of soup. Her aunt had not died at the table but had passed mysteriously a few days later. At the time, Bernie had been told her poor aunt had succumbed to her grief, a euphemism for suicide. Now she was learning her own father had murdered his sister-in-law. It hurt her how much this new information failed to surprise her.

The judge continued, “How do you plead to these new charges?”

“I am innocent,” lied her father. “There is no proof.”

The judge rolled his eyes and pulled up a stack of papers, “There are letters between you and the former Minister of the Imperial Household detailing how this would occur and confirming when it was finished.”

Her father had gone pale, his gray eyes finally looked truly afraid for the first time in Bernadetta’s memory. She realized she was holding her breath in anticipation. No fainting Bernie, she had to see this through.

“Forgeries!” argued von Varley adamantly, although he had begun to visibly sweat.

“These correspondence were directed to be burned,” said the judge as he shuffled through letters and presented them to the room. The crowd was largely lawyers, politicians, and some nobles. “However, what you and your conspirator failed to account for was the task of doing the burning. I believe you left that to your wife, and the former Minister left that to his son. Both of those people betrayed you in the interests of Adrestia.”

Bernie stole a glance up at Hubert and saw his lip was twitching into a rather smug grin as her father stared at him.

Her father had gone from white do a deep shade of red as he clearly uttered, “Treacherous bitch.” Bernadetta wanted to hug and kiss her mother and Hubert at the same time for their heroic letter saving.

“Speaking of your wife,” started the judge, as he pulled up a long paper, “She has issued a request for a divorce, approved by the Emperor herself.” The judge signed the paperwork, finalizing the end of her parents’ terrible marriage. “You will be sent to prison to live out the rest of your natural life. Your heir, Bernadetta von Varley will receive all your holdings, after the Empire has finished their ongoing audit of your back taxes.”

Bernadetta’s massive excitement was tempered by the realization she now was responsible for managing the vast Varley lands. That could wait, she’d let her mother continue to do that for now, but someday that was going to be her responsibility. Her father was being led through the courtroom in shackles and Bernadetta realized he was going to have to walk right past her.

Bernie braced herself as her father stared her down. “Soiled whore,” he hissed at her and then spit right on her.

Bernadetta barely had time to react before Hubert was dabbing her off with a handkerchief and telling her father to enjoy his tiny cell. She realized she was shaking as Hubert carefully led her from the courtroom and out into the grand lobby of the building.

“Did you eat breakfast?” inquired Hubert cautiously. Bernadetta shook her head weakly, she had been in such a rush she had skipped even brushing her teeth. “Would you care to join me? I know a good place nearby.” Hubert offered her his arm and she took it wordlessly. Bernie walked in a bit of a daze as what had just happened kept replaying in her mind.

The restaurant was only a few blocks away and fairly empty. Hubert took her cape and then waited for her hat. With great reluctance Bernie took off her bonnet, “I was in a rush, please excuse my hair.”

Hubert smirked weakly, “Don’t worry mine looks worse.” Bernie was glad there were no mirrors.

He pulled out her chair and took a seat next to her, “I recommend the smoked salmon.” He seemed to be going out of his way to not look her in the eye.

“Can I just say thank you for staying though the sentencing,” said Bernadetta in a rush. “And for not burning those letters.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” said Hubert as the waiter came over. They got coffee, tea, and two bagels with salmon.

“It was something, if my father had told me to burn a letter I wouldn’t have ever disobeyed him,” said Bernie softly. “That was very brave of you and my mother, and I’m just really grateful you both were willing to do that.”

Hubert shrugged, “I was ten when the Insurrection started, and I already deeply hated my father. I took any opportunity I was given to undermine him. Whatever he asked me to burn, if he wasn’t over my shoulder, got stashed under floorboards. Whenever he gave me an order, if I knew I could get away with it, I pretty much did the opposite. I was a rather terrible son.”

“But a good person,” said Bernadetta softly.

“Maybe,” said Hubert, unconvinced. “It’s not like I knew what was in those letters, I just knew if it came from my father is was unlikely to be good. It took a dedicated team years to go through all of the evidence I stole. There are still nobles that haven’t even been charged yet that’s how much information had to be sorted and investigated. My father was likely responsible for supplying poison to possibly hundreds of people, and not just in Adrestia.”

They grew quiet as their beverages were brought out. Hubert was sipping apprehensively at his coffee and she could see his knee bobbing with nervousness. Bernadetta frowned, “Hubert, are you all right?”

A blush crossed his cheeks as he stared at his mug, “Sorry, I just, um, I understand that you are probably still angry with me.”

“Oh,” said Bernadetta softly as she thought back to their conversation in Faerghus. They hadn’t really had a proper chat since then even though it had been a couple weeks. She had mostly been working non stop. “I’m not angry with you,” she promised. “I was caught off guard that’s all.”

“Again, I’m deeply sorry for not telling you about Ferdinand,” said Hubert softly.

Bernadetta sighed and was saved from having to respond right away by their breakfast arriving. The bagels were topped with cream cheese, little tiny bits of red onion, capers, and a heaping helping of smoked salmon fillet. A lovely green sprig of dill topped it all off. “Well, I turned what Ferdinand did into getting him to push my father into a prison sentence, so I’d say that was a decent exchange.”

“Congratulations on your sudden inheritance,” said Hubert as he toasted her with his coffee mug.

Bernadetta blushed, “I’m afraid I’m not really all that enthusiastic about having to take over those duties. It’s daunting.”

“It’s boring,” said Hubert knowingly. “But it’s not that bad. That’s essentially what I do here; manage the books, figure out what needs fixing, and fix it.”

Bernadetta felt like she was going to totally hire someone to take care of that for her. “Oh speaking of fixing, by the way, I’m sorry your flower is taking so long to fix! I’m just really behind on everything else.”

“You’re repairing it?” asked Hubert quietly as a look of relief crossed his face.

“Yeah I said I would! It just needs a touch up, and I thought maybe a hardier backing, maybe some lambskin,” said Bernadetta as she considered her plans for it.

“I um, I didn’t actually hear everything you said through the door, I was rather afraid you had suggested we shouldn’t fix _us_ ,” said Hubert reluctantly. “And then you seemed to be avoiding me and I just assumed you didn’t want to see me.”

“Avoiding you?”

“Well I’ve barely seen you since we got back,” said Hubert quietly.

“Oh,” said Bernadetta guiltily. “I tend to get this way sometimes, I just, I get focused on a project and don’t leave my room. It’s been really easy with the palace room service too!”

“I understand,” said Hubert. “I’m glad you’re not missing meals or hiding out. And I understand if I’m a little scary to be around, especially without the flower.”

Bernie cautiously reached out to cover his hand with one of her own, “It’s not a magic charm.” She paused smiled, “Seeing you wear it all the time was a nice surprise, because I know you only put it on because you’re my friend. And I think knowing that, and being constantly reminded that you care, is what really makes you less scary, not the flower itself.”

“Are you suggesting I do not need to wear the flower?” asked Hubert slowly.

Bernadetta blushed, “I mean I’m not going to stop you! I like how it looks!”

“Well then, upon its return, I will continue to don it,” smiled Hubert. “It’s become a rather signature piece for me.”

Bernadetta withdrew her hand and continued to eat the seriously delicious breakfast. Hubert was biting his lip. He looked at her with extreme reluctance, “Have you given any consideration to the other thing we spoke about?”

Bernadetta choked a little on her tea, “Uh, well, um.”

“It’s okay,” rushed Hubert as his eyes fell to his plate. “I understand, I won’t bring it up again.”

“No wait!” begged Bernie quickly. “I just, I had a feeling you maybe liked me during the war, and I felt like I pushed you away, and I didn’t really ever think you’d be interested again.”

“I did like you, a great deal,” swallowed Hubert uncomfortably. “And that feeling never truly went away, I just buried it because I assumed you would never wish to be with me.”

“I don’t know how I feel,” whispered Bernadetta. “But I’m willing to find out!”

Hubert looked up hopefully, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Uh sure!” said Bernie. At least she could be assured this was a real date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man, finally getting to the romantic part of this romantic dramady


	23. Two First Dates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BERNIE AND HUBIE GO ON A DATE
> 
> Also Ferdie and Lorenz.
> 
> (With one special cameo from an FE: Fates character and everyone's favorite merchant/hustler)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments on the last chapter, I'm glad everyone's excited for this date haha! FINALLY.

Planning this date out had been a huge undertaking, mostly because Hubert had no experience in these matters. He had never been on a date and his closest friends, Edelgard and Ferdinand, really hadn’t been on proper dates either. Ferdinand had taken women out, but he had never been truly invested them so the dates were all mundane. The Emperor, though this was not common knowledge, had never dated anyone at all. The three of them had strategically discussed what to do as a first date, and Hubert was pretty sure the trio was hopeless. Edelgard had suggested that Hubert take Bernadetta to a museum, until Hubert reminded her how Rhea had set their National Gallery on fire. Ferdinand had proposed that Hubert take Bernadetta to the newest hot restaurant in Enbarr, but Hubert had wanted to find something comfortable and with an easy escape route in case Bernadetta realized she’d made a horrible mistake. He didn’t want to drag her out through the chilly night and ice to brave some multi-course dinner at a restaurant where they’d have to eat and talk in front of other people. Instead, he’d settled on a private art lesson.

Hubert checked his watch again and hoped that the artist would show up soon. He’d gathered some items for a still life although they felt a little uninspired — a bowl of fruit, a bottle of wine, some flowers — and he rearranged them again on the pedestal. The easels were all set, they were going to do drawings with the guiding advice of an instructor. Hubert knew Bernadetta produced wonderful little watercolors, mostly of flowers and landscapes, so he was hoping this would challenge her in an enjoyable way. He did not want to make it seem like he was trying to improve her existing skills, but frankly Hubert had no art skills and professional guidance couldn’t hurt.

Bernadetta arrived early to his private apartments, and Hubert felt suddenly under prepared. “Welcome,” he said awkwardly as he led her into his drawing room. Pretty much no one ever came here to his personal residence within the palace. He always went to Edelgard, and he and Ferdinand typically stuck to seeing each during the normal work week. The idea of a quiet date in a relaxed setting had seemed like a good idea when he proposed it but now he was panicking and wishing he had just suggested going to a restaurant. He glanced out the palace window and watched the snow falling in big fluffy flakes and knew that dinner out would have been equally challenging on this night.

Hubert had tried to dress to impress but frankly his clothes just weren’t that flashy. He’d also attempted to do his hair, but as always it had defied him and done its own thing. Bernadetta on the other hand looked beautiful. She was wearing a smart long purple skirt and a cream sweater. It managed to look just dressed up enough for a date, and yet comfortable and warm. As always she had a well chosen hair clip with little embroidered flowers and rhinestones. He suspected she had made it herself and he was suddenly very embarrassed by the ugly carnivorous plant embroidered collage he was hiding in his room. It wasn’t ready yet, and every time he saw skilled embroidery he wanted to burn his dumb little gift.

Bernadetta pulled out the repaired flower favor, “I um, I couldn’t match the threads perfectly so I might have gone overboard trying to correct it.”

Somehow the flowers looked more alive than ever and before Hubert could accept the gift, Bernadetta was gently pulling on his vest and pinning it in place. Hubert’s stomach was doing somersaults as she carefully adjusted it. He looked down at the reinforced little patch, “It looks wonderful, thank you.”

Bernadetta blushed as she stepped back from him. She looked at the easels and the stools and back at Hubert, “Are we painting?”

“Drawing,” said Hubert quickly. He wasn’t really sure what to do with himself, “I hired an instructor, but it appears they are late.”

Bernadetta wandered to the arranged items and began to recompose them. She had a much better eye for these things than he did. She held up the bottle of wine, “Are we drawing this or drinking it?”

“I, I wasn’t sure if you would like a drink or not,” said Hubert. Oh no, what kind of wine did she even like? She occasionally had a glass of something when the Strike Force got together, but admittedly Hubert knew much better what someone like Caspar or Dorothea would enjoy thanks to the sheer volume they imbibed.

The wine he’d chosen was literally a dusty bottle he’d pulled because it was a good size for the still life. He hadn’t even read the label, he hoped it would not be too surprising, “Allow me to get some glasses.”

“We can wait until after, I think I’ll draw better sober,” teased Bernadetta as she walked around. She paused at his book shelf. Hubert tensed, oh no, she was going to realize how boring he was. All his books were instruction manuals for war, biographies of emperors long dead, and poison cookbooks (as well as a few regular cookbooks). He really ought to culture himself with some fiction now that the war was done. He didn’t even have a favorite genre, and could probably count the classic stories he’d read on one hand. She said nothing as she continued to circle the room.

Hubert put some extra logs on the fire for good measure and tapped his foot impatiently. Finally there was a knock, there was that damned instructor. Hubert opened the door not to one but two people.

The artist was a young woman with red hair, Anna something, whom he’d found in a back advert of the paper. She ushered in her associate, a woman in a heavy coat, and looked at Hubert apologetically, “Sorry we’re late, it’s snowing!”

“Right, why are there two of you?” asked Hubert in a direct whisper. He’d paid for one person to come teach, this was not the plan.

The instructor looked perplexed, “Well you hired me for a figure drawing session, what did you think I was going to pose—” she paused and looked at Bernadetta, “Oh did you want to use your own model?”

Bernadetta eeped and Hubert grew red, “No, this was supposed to be a still life drawing session.”

“Well she’s alive, and she’ll be pretty still,” promised Anna with an easy smile as she helped her model out of her bulky fur lined coat. The woman was wearing nothing underneath. Hubert’s brain shut off at the situation for a few heartbeats.

Anna was already moving his fruit and flowers aside and helping herself to a snack while she was at it. Hubert grabbed the bottle of wine and set to uncorking it. His hands were shaking as he poured himself and Bernadetta a tall glass each.

Bernadetta had taken her seat and was staring at the model as the woman delicately draped her flowing violet hair over her two massive breasts. She crossed her legs and sat languidly, “Hi, I’m Camilla.”

“Hi,” said Bernie weakly as she stared. “I-I’m Bernie.”

Hubert took his seat and another generous sip of wine. Anna clapped, “Alright, pencils up! And go!”

Bernadetta started to cautiously sketch out the ample bosomed woman before them. Hubert didn’t really have a shred of artistic talent. He could do a stick figure drawing. So he just focused on trying to approximate a human body as best he could.

Anna leaned over their shoulders and gave them pointers, “You need to shade those breasts,” or “Her eyes are up here, you forgot to give her a neck,” and “Way to capture those quads, Camilla’s a wyvern rider when she’s not modeling.” The instruction was dubious at best and Hubert suspected he’d been hustled. He should have asked to see Anna’s portfolio or gotten a reference before paying. He hoped there would be no offer to upgrade to a ‘happy ending’ at the close of the lesson.

Bernadetta produced a passable and only vaguely pornographic drawing. Hubert was going to toss his into the fire place when all was done. Hubert hurried to kick Anna and Camilla out when the lesson was done. He could feel his cheeks burning as he met Bernadetta’s stare. She burst out laughing, and Hubert finally relaxed.

“I am so sorry, this is what I get for hiring someone from a newspaper ad,” apologized Hubert as he finished off the bottle of wine between their glasses. “Would you care to study our masterpieces by the fire?”

Hubert settled onto the couch and Bernadetta joined him. They traded their drawings and Bernadetta bit back a laugh, “Well, you just need to practice.”

“I don’t know if one lifetime is enough time for me to learn such skills,” he said as he looked at Bernadetta’s decent sketch. “And again, I apologize for the mix-up.” He studied his wine glass and the light summery wine within, “And I apologize for not putting much thought into the wine selection, I chose it mostly for how the bottle looked.”

“That’s how I usually pick out wine too,” shrugged Bernadetta as she set the drawing aside. “Thank you for the pleasantly surprising date, it, it was a good idea even with the um, unexpected turn.”

Hubert rubbed his brow, “Yes I didn’t expect the detailed anatomy instruction at the end either.” Camilla had decided to put one foot up on the pedestal and go into a nice wide stretch, apparently sitting still for long periods was quite taxing.

Bernadetta went red, “That was very educational.”

“Indeed,” said Hubert before finishing his wine. He was feeling rather warm, though he couldn’t pin point if it was the alcohol, the proximity to the fireplace, or his proximity to Bernadetta. He stole a glance at her looking again at the rest of his boring drawing room. She turned and caught him looking at her, but to his delight he had elicited a blush rather than a shriek. Maybe there was some hope for this yet.

They chatted as Hubert walked Bernadetta back to her guest accommodations within the palace. On one hand he was put off by the distance between them, but on the other he wished she lived just a bit further so that he might continue to enjoy her company that much longer.

“Alright, well, um, goodnight,” said Bernadetta cautiously as she lingered by her door.

Was he supposed to kiss her goodbye? Hubert’s hands had never done well without something to distract them and he awkwardly took one of her small hands now and kissed it. She didn’t flinch or pull back but she did look surprised.

“Goodnight Bernadetta,” he whispered. He was unable to discern if she’d been expecting the tame hand kiss, or had been looking for something more.

***

Ferdinand was nervous as he waited for Lorenz in the lobby of the Leicester Embassy. He had never been on a proper date with a gentleman before. He typically saved such rendezvous for private or the occasional public tryst, although that was always a risk. His heart started to race. Lorenz had insisted on dinner at some fancy new place, and Ferdinand was panicking at what people might say.

Lorenz appeared, looking elegant as usual, “Good evening Ferdinand, you’re looking as dashing as I’d hoped.”

Ferdinand gave a nervous look around the empty lobby and swallowed, “Shall we?”

Lorenz attempted to link arms but Ferdinand found his were firmly fixed to his sides. Lorenz sighed and opened the door for him instead. It was chilly out, Enbarr had received a nice blanket of snow to remind everyone it was winter. Lorenz was walking close to Ferdinand as if to keep warm and Ferdinand kept reflexively widening the space between them.

The restaurant was _extremely_ fancy. This was the type of place Ferdinand would take his mother in a desperate bid to show her how nice Enbarr could be. She still saw it as a stinking grimy city no matter how much he and Edelgard worked to clean it up. In comparison the Aegir province was idyllic and pastoral. His mother had always been caught between wanting to be seen in high society and actually having to go to Enbarr to participate.

The waiter came over and Lorenz went ahead and ordered for the two of them before Ferdinand had a chance to speak. “I could have ordered my own meal,” said Ferdinand quietly when they were alone again.

“Do you disagree with my selection?” asked Lorenz pleasantly.

The problem was that Lorenz had correctly guessed Ferdinand’s preferences and ordered what he was going to get anyway. Ferdinand just wasn’t used to someone being so dominant towards him. He was Prime Minister, only outranked by the Emperor herself. He and Lorenz had both been raised to be the ideal noble man, who ordered dinners for their dates. It was expected those dates would be with women though, who were trained not to argue about whether they wanted fish or pasta.

“It’s just, usually, two friends order for themselves,” said Ferdinand curtly.

Lorenz raised one eyebrow, “My apologies Ferdinand, I assumed when you said yes to a date with me, you understood it was a date.”

Ferdinand looked at the closeness of the tables around them, “I understood perfectly, I just feel like you don’t have to share with the whole room.”

“Ah, this again,” sighed Lorenz. He gestured to the people eating around him, “Do you really think they’re concerned about other people in this establishment? No, most people are too concerned with themselves to watch others.”

“You underestimate Enbarr’s court,” started Ferdinand. Adrestian nobles were renown for their gossip.

“Last I checked, your emperor had blown the quite the hole into the court and it’s members,” challenged Lorenz. “And a new noble ideal is rising out of the ashes, one in which maybe it will not be so unusual for two men to enjoy dinner together without tongues wagging—”

“A new noble ideal,” began Ferdinand. “Perhaps in the new Fodlan, men will let their dates think for themselves and order their own meal.”

Lorenz raised his glass of wine, “Excellent point Ferdinand, for all my talk of the new nobility, I find my old habits difficult to break.”

Ferdinand could not stay mad because he had his own host of ingrained habits and reactions to unlearn. He wanted to date Lorenz. The sex had been, to put it bluntly, mind blowing so far and Ferdinand did truly enjoy Lorenz’s company. However, to actually be with Lorenz was terrifying, and the idea of people finding out made Ferdinand’s blood run cold. He did not wish to be this way, but this was how he had been raised. Two voices were competing in his head: one was thrilled to be with Lorenz, the other sounded suspiciously like his father and whispered, “ _You cannot be a von Aegir like this_.”


	24. In Her Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta returns to her room for some quality Bernie-time while she attempts to imagine what things might be like to be with Hubert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be safe, I have bumped the rating of this fic up to explicit, although if you're looking for hard core porn you're probably not reading a 60k+ word slow burn romance about two timid people. While I don't think what I've written (and planned out) gets too porny, there will be ongoing references to some genitalia and things that genitalia do alone and together so you've been warned!

Bernadetta took a deep breath as she stared at the ceiling in her room. That had been an interesting first date to say the least. It was painfully apparent how embarrassed Hubert was by the mix up. It had certainly been a shock to Bernadetta at first, but honestly, figure drawing wasn’t _that_ strange. Bernie was just glad the model was a woman and not a man, mostly because she’d never actually seen a naked man before and she didn’t want the first one she glimpsed to be a stranger that she then had to stare at and draw.

And that goodnight…hand kiss? Well, it was very sweet, but very much not what she was expecting. She had kind of sort of been hoping for a kiss on the lips. She had been prepping herself for it since Hubert had asked her on the date. Bernie had a whole plan for smoothly getting through it: she was just going to close her eyes! Then she couldn’t be scared, it was fool proof.

She still remembered her first real kiss quite vividly. Caspar had all but mashed his face against hers and jammed his tongue in her mouth. It had been his first kiss too, and he had gotten a bit better with experience, but Bernie remembered being glad she didn’t lose a tooth after that smooch! It had been scary at first because it was new, but once it was done she didn’t see what the big deal was. That seemed to be the way of things for her. She would think something was super scary until she experienced it and then it either was a confirmed scary (small list) or a not-scary-at-all (a much bigger list). There were a few medium scaries as well: those were the things that still gave her a chill but she knew how to deal with.

Kissing had been downgraded from super scary to not scary with Caspar. Taking things a tiny little bit further than kissing had moved to the not scary list thanks to Linhardt. Ah Linhardt. Linhardt _never_ made the first move. Bernie had to initiate everything with him. At first this had seemed like a good thing, she was in total control, but in the end it very much felt like she was doing all the work in their relationship. It was hard to tell if he even liked her sometimes with how passive he was around her. It taught her just how much she needed to feel wanted by someone she was with. Hubert clearly wanted her, and that was nice to know although she was still getting used to the idea.

At least Bernie had learned how to take care of her own needs. She got into her pajamas and then settled into her bed. Bernie shut her eyes and tried to picture the scene she wanted. What did she want with Hubert? In the course of their friendship he’d gone from big scary to medium scary, but could he possibly be not scary at all?

With Fantasy Ferdie, she usually envisioned Ferdinand as a strapping commoner stable hand teaching her how to ride with the constant threat of getting caught by her father. That was just the right mix of scary and sexy for her. She started there, attempting to picture Hubert in casual work clothes with a pitchfork. Somehow his pale skin and slim, sharp features didn’t really scream manual outdoor labor. He was much more bureaucrat than beau.

She instead pictured herself in her emptying home while the Adrestian accountants calculated the worth all her father’s ugly assets as the Empire claimed their back taxes from the estate. All his awful outfits, all the gilded furniture he had to have, all the gross things that reminded her of her father, all hauled out by strapping, attractive movers. At the center of the great repossession was one Hubert von Vestra, in his devastatingly intimidating military uniform, looking at her with a severe expression, “There is one more thing I must take Ms. von Varley.”

Bernadetta, dressed like a conservative spinster, clutched at her pearls, “What’s possibly left?”

“Your virginity,” he announced as he threw the clipboard aside and swept her up in an indecent embrace in front of all the movers.

“Wh-what!” pleaded Bernadetta as he sucked on her neck. “Right here in the foyer?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Bernadetta,” hissed Hubert as he hoisted her up. “We’ll go to your room, we’re not repossessing _your_ stuff, only your stupid father’s!”

Fantasy Hubert did not cart her around like Caspar, indelicately under one arm with her skirt flying up, no, fantasy Hubert marched her through the house bridal style and knocked open the door to her room with one forceful kick from his leather boot. He laid her on her bed and drew out his dagger. Hubert ran the blade along the front buttons of her dress even as she protested. “I just sewed all those on,” moaned Bernadetta as all the little fabric covered buttons flew off and pinged to the floor.

“All your hard work for nothing,” he said. Hubert let out one of his scary, thrilling laughs and pulled open her button free bodice. Then his cool lips were all over her clavicle as he eased her arms free from her sleeves.

Soon she was naked, and ineffectively attempting to hide herself with her hands as Hubert stared down at her with his usual smug grin. He started to undo his military uniform in a slow, methodical fashion. “I know you find me to be the biggest and scariest member of the Black Eagle Strike Force Bernadetta,” said Hubert in a slow drawl.

Bernadetta gasped, “M-maybe!”

“Well you should also know, I have the biggest, scariest cock in the Strike Force!” declared fantasy Hubert as he pulled off his jacket and dropped his uniform pants revealing a well-endowed dick. Or at least what she thought a penis might look like. That part of her little fantasy was a bit blurry. No need to get caught in the details.

“On nooo,” cried Bernadetta with glee as he climbed on top of her. “You’ll make me unmarriageable with that thing!”

“Impossible,” disagreed Hubert vehemently as he kissed her more. “Now, to the matter of your precious virginity. It will be mine.”

He could have it. Bernie just wanted to get sex over with so she could stop worrying about it so much. Somewhere in a prison cell she envisioned her father feeling a disturbance in the universe and having a rage induced heart attack and dying of ‘natural’ causes as Bernie got her world rocked. Her virginity was her father’s most prized possession, and it rather made her sick to think about it in such a way. She wanted it gone.

Fantasy Hubert did her like he was conquering a city, forcefully and with purpose, and the only fear she had was that he was going to overstimulate her and make her orgasm too much. Of course, because this was _her_ fantasy, Hubert was utterly defeated by how wonderful sex with her was. He laid back on her bed exhausted by the intensity of making love to her. Then he held her close against his rock hard muscular body and sang her praises.

“Unmarriageable,” scoffed fantasy Hubert, as if the whole concept was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Only the most lucky person in the world will get to marry you, and I will destroy anyone that dares to suggest otherwise.”

In her real bed, Bernie hugged her teddy bear close and sighed with content as she finished herself off. Was this her most ridiculous fantasy yet? No, that was likely to be when she’d imagined Caspar taking her out to dinner and actually using a fork for a change, but this was up there.

Her cool down was tempered by the memory of her father calling her a _soiled whore_ and spitting upon her for everyone to see at the courthouse. Bernie brushed the tears out of her eyes at the humiliation of strangers seeing how little her own father cared for her. Staying a perfect virtuous young woman and getting married to a rich groom was never going to ‘fix’ Bernie in the eyes of her father. She took a deep breath and reminded herself, _He’s in prison for life, he’s gone, you’ll never see him again_. He had gotten what he’d deserved.

Yet he was still there, in her head, bringing her down even when she had ever right to be happy. Bernadetta squeezed her eyes shut. “The only power he has is the power you give him Bernie,” she repeated. Bernie dried her eyes and lit a candle and went to fetch her embroidery to distract herself. She knew she probably ought to resent her crafts and what they represented, but this kind of work was soothing. It was calm and familiar, and reminded of time spent with her mother. Her father never bothered her when she was working quietly with her hands, both in person or in her brain. Further, she liked what she was capable of making. She liked her little finished flowers, she enjoyed her pleasant watercolors, she loved tending her plants. It made her feel like she was good at something when she did these things.

***

Bernadetta looked up from her work as there was a light knocking on her door. She yawned and checked the clock, 3 pm! She could swear the last time she’d looked it had been 11 am. She’d missed lunch, no wonder she was feeling so groggy. Bernie opened the door and was surprised to see Hubert with tea.

“I um, I wanted to make sure you took a break,” said Hubert as he gestured to the small trolley he was pushing. On top there was tea and coffee, and some rather tantalizing looking little sandwiches and tiny cakes. On the lower shelves of the trolley was clearly Hubert’s own stacks of work.

“Oh, thanks!” said Bernie as she opened the door all the way and let him in.

Bernadetta pushed the great big silk skirt panel she was working on down the table. She was assembling all the dress pattern pieces, doing another fitting, and then sending it off for someone else to neatly finish the seams. Let some other poor bastard make all that bias tape, Bernie had frigging flowers to finish!

It had been a few days since their date and Bernadetta was surprised by how nervous Hubert looked. She was used to being the most nervous one in any given room, but maybe not her own room. She accepted the tea and helped herself to a late lunch. Hubert was drinking his coffee quietly and looking at her stacks of embroidered flowers, “These appear to be coming along nicely.”

She didn’t want to admit to him, Mr. Wedding Planner, that she was totally behind where she wanted to be. Bernie had a poor grasp of time management. She wasn’t nearly as bad as Linhardt, but still, it had never been her strong suit. Instead she put on a brave face, “I’ll get it done.”

Hubert looked apologetic that he had brought it up. “My offer to help is still on the table.”

“I appreciate that,” said Bernadetta. She drank some tea, honeyed fruit blend, one of her favorites, and sighed. She didn’t have a polite way to say she didn’t want amateur help. It would be mean to say something like that, but this was the emperor’s wedding dress and it had to be flawless. “It’s fine, I’m sure I can finish!”

When the surprise tea time was finished Bernadetta pulled up her embroidery again and watched Hubert packing up the empty plates. “Do you have a busy afternoon?” asked Bernadetta.

Hubert shrugged as he gestured to the paperwork on the bottom of the trolley, “Just organizing the Emperor’s priorities.”

“Do you, uh, wanna hang out and do it here?” she tried. She was pretty sure this was the first time Hubert had ever been inside her room — any room she’d had in the time knowing him — for any extended period of time.

“I don’t want to disturb you,” started Hubert.

Bernadetta waved him off, “It’s fine, I’ll be less tempted to work on other things if I have someone to keep me accountable.” It was a real chore sometimes to have so many tempting hobbies when one had actual work to do.

“Well then if my presence is of assistance, I have no choice but to stay,” said Hubert pleasantly as he pulled up his stacks of papers to occupy a small corner of the work table.

It almost reminded Bernadetta of spending time with Linhardt, and doing things alone but together. Yet this was slightly different. Linhardt would usually get absorbed into what he was doing and require quiet to concentrate; Hubert seemed much more used to multitasking. He could carry on a conversation, only occasionally dropping to silence when a particularly important letter caught his attention. It was nice to have company, Bernie had to admit, and it reminded her vaguely of chatting with the professor through her door back when she was still too afraid to leave her room at school. It was comfortable and easy, and Bernie rather hoped Hubert would come surprise her with tea more often. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I've been writing/reading fanfic for approximately 4 months, and I'm still learning a lot about the norms, tropes, language use, fan culture, etc, so if anyone has any strong thoughts about what makes something explicit vs mature let me know. Or is it more or a "I'll know it when I read it" type deal?


	25. Melting the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes ice skating.

Hubert looked up and caught Edelgard staring at him with a perplexed expression. Was there food on his face? Why was she looking at him like that, “What?”

“You’re humming,” said Edelgard, clearly amused.

Hubert flushed as he fixed his eyes firmly on his work. He did not realize he’d been making any noise at all, “I’m sorry your majesty.” They were supposed to be sorting through projections for the coming year’s finances. It was going to be tight, again. Of course as he was doing his math he was not really thinking about numbers so much as how Bernadetta’s eyes tended to shut as she laughed. It was truly distracting to be this taken with someone and not having to completely suppress his feelings. His heart was practically bursting with music and apparently that made him hum.

“I take it that things with Bernadetta are going well?” inquired Edelgard with a smirk.

As usual, Hubert was flustered by any attention paid to his private life. It felt like everyone had an opinion to give about what he should be doing to properly court Bernadetta. He thought he was doing an alright, albeit incredibly slow, job. After their first date had not ended in total disaster, Hubert had dined alone with Bernadetta a handful of times, and had been making a point to be available at tea time just in case she was in need of a break from her own work.

“She has yet to tire of me,” said Hubert softly as he flipped through his big ledger to complete some budget items.

“You say it as if she ought to,” protested Edelgard. “Have you considered perhaps she likes you back?”

Hubert said nothing and wished for a nice place to hide from the Emperor’s inquisitive gaze. Hubert knew he was plenty dull and depressing at times, and he knew it was merely a matter of time before Bernadetta realized this too. He could only hope that by that point she would find things about him that she liked despite the morbid and boring parts of his life and his work. He wasn’t entirely sure what those things she would find to like might be, but hopefully some existed.

Edelgard was leaning her cheek against one fist with an entertained expression on her face, “Have you kissed her yet?”

“No,” murmured Hubert as he held up a book to hide behind. He didn’t see how that was anyone’s business but his and Bernadetta’s.

The emperor’s hand shot out to pull down the tome, “Hubert! It’s been weeks, how have you not kissed her yet?”

Hubert could feel his blush extending all the way up into his ears. He really didn’t care for this blushing thing. Somehow Bernadetta had a unique effect on his physiology that he couldn’t hide. “Your majesty, please. This is hardly worth your concern.” Also, what did the Emperor know about kissing anyone? It wasn’t like she was a wealth of advice on how to have a romantic relationship.

“Pfft,” sighed Edelgard. “You’re both my friends! Of course it’s my concern, am I not allowed to route for my favorite people?”

Now Hubert seriously wanted to hide. He didn’t need the Emperor calling him one of her favorite people. It was a huge honor but also super embarrassing to be the center of her attention. She had a country to run! Why was she so focused on him?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this shy,” continued Edelgard. “I think our enemies would have greatly benefited from you being in a relationship during the war.”

He had been in a relationship, just an extremely bad one apparently that made him like going to the front. Hubert had been in more battles than almost any other Black Eagle, even the Emperor. There was no side skirmish too small for Hubert’s focus. He had taken some pretty bad hits, but he liked living and he knew when to beat a strategic retreat.

Edelgard was tapping her pencil persistently against the table, “What are you doing for your next date?”

Hubert’s eyes flashed to her in disbelief, “What has gotten into you?”

Edelgard looked affronted, “Is it a crime for me to wish to live vicariously? There is zero romance in my life Hubert, I need this, for the good of Adrestia.”

Hubert pursed his lips. That was quite a stretch, however he knew Edelgard would not drop this. What was he going to do for his next date with Bernadetta? “Um, it’s still rather cold out, I’m not really sure what to do.”

“Oh, she likes cocoa!” offered Edelgard. “You could go take her ice skating on the pond, and have cocoa after!”

Hubert stared dubiously at the Emperor and her strangely puppy-dog-esque eyes as she batted her hopeful lashes at him. Edelgard liked snow, and cocoa. Hubert gave her a long stare, “Your majesty, would _you_ like to go ice skating with Bernadetta?”

It was Edelgard’s turn to get red, “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your date.”

“Oh now this is a date?” asked Hubert lightly. “I might believe you, your majesty, if I did not know how much you loathed this type of work.” He smirked, “Would you like me to invite the Prime Minister and Count Gloucester to this outing?”

“Only if you will permit me to throw snowballs at them,” suggested Edelgard mischievously.

Hubert sighed, “That could break the peace.” Edelgard pouted and Hubert relented, “I suppose we might want to have a retreat plan ready for when they inevitably retaliate.”

***

Edelgard and Ferdinand were already competing with each other to see who could skate faster while Hubert was preoccupied with checking the pond for the thickness of the ice. The last thing he needed was the Emperor falling through a too thin section. No one was going to drown, this pond wasn’t particularly deep, but one would get rather wet and cold if they fell through a well placed crack. Then it was just a hop skip and a jump to pneumonia, and no one wanted that for the leadership of the country. Once he was satisfied no one was going to go swimming, Hubert finally relaxed.

He glanced up to see Lorenz gallantly guiding a shaky looking bundled up Bernadetta out onto the ice. Her stance was all wrong, with her feet bowing out and her knees trying to knock together, as she wobbled about on the ice. Hubert wasn’t a particularly great skater, but he was looking super experienced in comparison. He glided over to the purple pair. Lorenz tried to coax Bernadetta free but as her legs tried to go into a split it became clear she was going to need help out here.

“I’ve never done this before,” said Bernadetta apologetically as Lorenz gave her a gentle push towards Hubert. She crossed the short distance at a snail’s pace and came to a stop as Hubert took her hands.

“Don’t worry, no one is good their first time,” promised Hubert. He had been quite terrible at skating as a child but as a vassal he had to get good at the activities Edelgard wanted to do. He’d succeeded in almost everything except for pegasus riding, and that had been quite a terrible afternoon to say the least.

Ferdinand was racing by, “I was, I am a natural!”

Lorenz shook his head at Bernadetta, “I promise he was not.” Lorenz wasn’t too bad himself as he went to chase after his boastful beau. They made quite the pair dashing around each other.

Hubert held onto Bernadetta’s forearms as he skated backwards and led her along, “See you’re doing well.”

They were barely moving. Bernadetta looked a little miserable as she stared at the slippery ice. Hubert kept a hold on one of her hands as he maneuvered to the side of her. “Just hold onto me, I won’t let you fall.”

Bernadetta cautiously wrapped her arms around his waist as Hubert took a hold of her shoulder. They slowly skated around the perimeter of the pond as Edelgard and Ferdinand continued to try to out do one another with spins and jumps. Hubert and Bernadetta hit a good rhythm as they skated in sync. After a few laps, he glanced down at Bernadetta, “Do you want to try on your own?”

“W-what are you sick of me already?” asked Bernadetta in a panic.

“No!” insisted Hubert. He rather liked having her glued to him, but he also wanted her to enjoy skating independently. “You just seem surer of yourself.”

“Maybe,” said Bernadetta as her hands cautiously slipped free of him. She put on a brave face and started to skate. She had her arms out to balance as she glided out on her own.

“See, you’re doing great,” called Hubert. It was short lived; Bernadetta wiped out after traveling all of fifteen feet. Hubert quickly skated to her and offered her a hand up. She continued to slip as she tried to get back on her feet.

“Ice skating is terrible,” whined Bernadetta as she continued to flail. She gave up and laid sprawled out on the ice, “Just leave me out here, I’ll become one with the snow.”

“I can’t court you if you freeze to death,” argued Hubert lightly as he tried to pick her up. He almost had her back onto her feet when he lost his own footing and ended up crashing back himself as he pulled Bernadetta down with him.

“We’re doomed,” moaned Bernadetta dramatically. She was shivering and looking extra miserable as she tried to get situated. She looked at him as if searching for a solution to how to get out of this. It was a look of trust and faith in him that he could save her, even from such a trivial situation, and it made Hubert feel warm despite the ice.

Hubert leaned in and quickly kissed her on the lips. “There’s no one I’d rather be doomed with.”

He couldn’t tell if she was red from the sudden kiss or the chilly air. Hubert decided not to dwell on her shocked silence and focused instead on getting them back on their feet. It was easier said than done. Hubert could not help but laugh as the two of them continued to slip instead of getting upright.

He settled on getting himself up first and then hooked his arms beneath her armpits to hoist her up. She grabbed onto him to stop herself from falling again.

He opened his cape and wrapped it around her to help warm her up. “See, you’re back on your feet.”

“Yeah only because you’re here,” sighed Bernadetta as she gave him a shy look.

“I think you could have figured it out, but it’s nice to feel like I’m saving you from an icy fate,” said Hubert as he rubbed her arms to try to warm them up. As she looked up at him he wanted nothing more than to lean down and kiss her again, but her attention was suddenly grabbed by Ferdinand and Edelgard arguing over who had done more spins in a single jump.

“Show offs,” murmured Bernadetta, and Hubert had to agree.

“Come on, I have it on good authority there’s cocoa inside,” said Hubert as helped her to skate along with him once more.

He made sure not to let her go this time lest she fall again, and got her all the way to the bench by the pond where their boots were waiting. Hubert carried their skates back by the laces in one hand. To his delight, Bernadetta hugged his other arm as they walked. She eyed every icy patch on the path with extreme suspicion.

Back inside in the Emperor’s drawing room, Hubert set to preparing the cocoa while Bernadetta parked herself by the roaring fireplace. Once he was done he came to join her with two piping hot mugs.

“Sorry, you’re probably all bruised up from trying to help me. I think ice skating is not my thing,” she murmured as she looked up him.

“Don’t worry, it’s more Edelgard’s thing, this was her idea,” promised Hubert. He enjoyed skating but not enough to drag Bernadetta back onto the ice. Hubert wondered how much longer Edelgard and Ferdinand would be out trying to out-do one another. Hubert set both mugs on the mantle and looked down at Bernadetta. He took her hands in his to help warm them up. She was still chilly, and her cheeks were particularly red. “I hope it was alright with you that I kissed you earlier.”

Bernadetta looked rather embarrassed, “I wasn’t expecting it.” She forced her eyes up to his, “But I-I’m glad you did.”

Hubert knew he was grinning like an idiot as he blushed. He pulled her hands a little closer and leaned in to kiss her again, a little more deeply than before. He had to stoop a little, and he knew she was up on her tip toes. He wanted to lift her up and shrink this height gap between them.

Instead, they pulled apart as they heard the sounds of Lorenz, Ferdinand, and Edelgard bustling closer. Hubert rapidly pressed a cooling mug of cocoa into Bernadetta’s hands and took a quick swig of his own. It was way to sweet and Hubert wished he’d just made himself coffee instead. Bernadetta was stealing glances at him as she sipped her drink. She hadn’t flinched at all and Hubert’s heart was beating faster at the prospect that perhaps she wasn’t frightened of him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so fluffy, but aren't Edelgard and Hubert basically warmongers? 
> 
> Yes, yes they are. Next chapter, Bernie faces one of her fears: angsty-about-politics emperor and vassal.


	26. The Emperor's Lapdog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in Enbarr get tense and Bernie attempts comforting Hubert even though she's pretty unsure about what to do.

The palace atmosphere was growing tense and Bernie found that while she could hide out in her room, it was feeling more like exile than refuge at the moment. After a few days of zero social interaction she was incredibly lonely, having grown used to her friends coming to her. Yet they were suddenly busy, and she was out of the loop. She was going to have to be brave and go to them for a change. There was an official visit from Claude coming up, but surely that was not what was making this place seem so on edge. Bernie cautiously ventured out and tried to figure out what the heck was going on.

It did not take her long to find her friends. Edelgard and Hubert were in the center of the massive throne room. They spoke loudly enough for Bernie to hear that they were arguing, and quietly enough to keep the words they used private. Edelgard was marching around the throne room talking while Hubert hung just behind her like a shadow. It reminded Bernie of the early days of the war and sent a nervous chill down her spine. In Hubert’s hands was an official looking correspondence, a long scroll with a sapphire ribbon and a brilliant silvery seal; it could only be from Faerghus.

Ferdinand pulled Bernadetta aside and away from the doorway to warn her, “They’re in a mood.”

“What do you mean?” asked Bernie cautiously.

“It’s been better since the surrender, but when they get like this, just keep your distance,” advised Ferdinand. He winced as Edelgard hefted Aymr while making some proclamation. Hubert could be seen raising his hands cautiously and trying to regain control of the situation. Edelgard was red with passion, and Hubert was dark with the absence of it.

“Why are they like this?” asked Bernie as she hid behind Ferdinand to continue to watch the argument unfold.

The prime minister grimaced as the Emperor started declaring something, and then ushered Bernadetta towards the small private dining room where the Emperor and her closest associates took their meals. “Well, some of our former citizens have decided to rise up against the Kingdom, and the Kingdom does not have the greatest track record when it comes to handling rebellions.”

“What do you mean?” Bernadetta had never really been one for current events, especially ones in other countries. Good wives just shared their husband’s views on politics, they did not form their own opinions.

“Uh, the Western Rebellion of 1178? The decimation of Duscar, the subjugation of Sreng?” tried Ferdinand.

Bernie was drawing a blank. Obviously everyone had heard of the Tragedy of Duscar, but the others? She shrugged. Ferdinand looked a little shocked, “At the very least the business with Lord Lonato!”

“Oh yes, of course,” said Bernie weakly. That was like more than six years ago Ferdinand! She had still be afraid to be out of her room then.

Ferdinand sighed as he pulled out her chair and signaled that it would be just the two of them for dinner. Lorenz had to go home eventually, although there was a good chance he’d be coming back with Claude. Bernie and Ferdie were back on good terms, although it was still delightful to make Ferdinand feel guilty in order to get him to do favors for her.

“Anyway, the point is that the Kingdom tends to respond to things like this with excessive force,” explained Ferdinand. “Those people may no longer be in our borders, but they are still Adrestians. Edelgard is understandably distressed by the prospect our former people being slaughtered.”

“Surely the professor will prevent undo bloodshed,” whispered Bernadetta nervously.

Ferdinand winced, “This is _the_ professor. The ashen demon. The one who struck down Lonato mid monologue.”

“Oh right,” said Bernie softly as she remembered her fear at the early missions of the Black Eagles class. That shock had never truly gone away, it had merely dulled. The professor was good to her students, and downright murderous to everyone else.

“Maybe we ought to talk about something else, maybe something happier,” suggested Ferdinand as their dinner was brought out. Bernie missed cooking, but the meals at the palace were way better than the food at Garreg Mach. “How’s the wedding dress coming?”

“Let’s not talk about that,” whispered Bernie quickly. The dress was plodding along slowly and surely. The second fitting was done and now the dress itself was off in some shop in Enbarr getting some professional treatment. They’d had it for weeks and Bernie was beginning to sweat that she wasn’t going to get it back with enough time to add on all the embellishments.

Ferdinand was about to propose a new subject when Hubert entered the small private dining room in a tempered rage. It was painfully clear he was angry and yet it all seemed bottled up. Every move of his too angular body quivered with the threat of explosion as he took his seat.

“Will Edelgard be joining us for dinner?” asked Ferdinand hopefully. Most nights the four of them ate together, but recently Bernie had been finding her friends consumed with their work and the dining room empty more often than not. Ferdinand was better about stopping work to eat and sleep than the Emperor and Hubert. Bernie found herself getting worried for them as their appearances started to slip towards how they had looked in the final weeks of the war.

“Her majesty is going to the training room to beat out her frustrations on a straw dummy instead of me,” said Hubert. His words were sharp and Bernie felt herself shrinking in her seat even though his rage wasn’t directed at her. He was silent as a dinner plate was brought out to him without prompting. While Hubert was polite to the wait staff it was rather clear he did not intend on eating. He looked more gaunt than usual, and his voice was tired. When Hubert got like this everyone knew his temper was on a tight string ready to snap.

“What was the news you two were discussing?” Ferdinand was using his politician voice.

“The kingdom is sending a representative to tell us how they plan to handle the rebellion,” said Hubert stiffly.

“Oh, wonderful, who?” asked Ferdinand with a bright enthusiasm. Bernie shared the optimism, surely negotiating was good thing.

“Sylvain,” grunted Hubert as he studied his steak knife. It looked like he was considering stabbing it into Gautier. It was hardly a secret in school the sheer contempt that Hubert held for Sylvain, and Sylvain had returned those feelings with unaffected mockery.

“Oh,” murmured Ferdinand. “That’s a, well, _interesting_ choice. I would think they’d send someone like Ingrid, or Annette, or Mercedes, even Ashe—”

“Sylvain outranks all of them except for Felix, and you can imagine why they’re not sending him,” said Hubert.

Bernie had never gotten to know Sylvain very well. She’d been there when his brother had been turned into a demonic beast by the family relic. The whole fight had been brutal, and it didn’t help that there were enemies popping up all over the place the whole time so Bernie couldn’t even lag behind the group or hide entirely. She had spent that mission practically glued to Dorothea. The professor had brought poor Sylvain along for that awful excursion, and it had been painful to watch him seeing his brother’s demise. Afterward Sylvain acted like he was fine, but Bernie was all too familiar with hiding feelings. She saw right through him.

“Well, I’m sure Sylvain has matured from when we knew him in school. Perhaps he is now an experienced diplomat,” offered Ferdinand unconvincingly.

“Yes but has he learned to stand up to his king?” whispered Hubert, darkly, and to himself. Bernie stared at him; where once she might have only seen wrath once, she now saw hints of fear behind his scowl. Was Hubert _afraid_ of things? Was that possible?

“Hubert, you should really eat,” Ferdinand said with gentle encouragement.

Hubert shut his eyes instead. His jaw was clearly clenched; he was good at keeping his face somewhere between neutral and a frown but right now he was in solid glower territory. Bernadetta watched as whatever biting retort Hubert wanted to say to Ferdinand was safely buried away. His green eyes flicked open and flashed to the Prime Minister, “I am afraid I have no appetite at the moment.”

Ferdinand’s lips drew a thin line, “Alright. Please promise me you will at least sleep tonight then.”

Hubert sighed, “I am quite familiar with how to deal with stress, thank you for your concern Ferdinand.” While his words were pleasant, his tone veered towards ‘fuck off’.

Two voices were competing in Bernadetta’s head. One was rather shrill and scared, “He’s going to blow up at you if you talk to him, just leave him alone! He’s being scary!” The other was a bit smaller, but braver, “He’s just upset. You should see if you can help him.”

Hubert ended up picking at his meal clearly to appease Ferdinand. As Bernadetta watched him it was apparent his mind was in a thousand different places. When dinner was done Hubert began to slink away in the direction of his quarters. Bernie timidly walked after him, “Hubert?”

He turned at looked at her, “Yes?” His tenor betrayed his feelings: he was on edge but trying to appear calm for her.

“Um, do you want to spend some time together?” She managed to say the complete sentence even as he was looming over her looking so frightful. Hubert had been rather busy preparing for a planned visit from Claude, and now with everything else he and Bernadetta hadn’t had much alone time recently.

Hubert looked a little troubled as he stared at her. He swallowed uneasily, “I think I’m just going to retire for the night. I have a lot on my mind.”

“D-do you want to talk about it?” Bernie was surprised by her own persistence as she sought to shrink the gap between them.

Hubert pursed his lips and shook his head, “I do not wish to misdirect my anger at you.”

Bernadetta bit her lip. She didn’t want Hubert to accidentally yell at her either, but she also wanted to help him. “M-maybe we could just sit together. You don’t have to talk, we could just, um, _cuddle?_ ” She found that always made her feel better when Dorothea would comfort her with an embrace. Maybe that sort of thing would feel good to Hubert.

The hallway was not well lit but Bernie couldn’t miss the color that suggestion brought up to Hubert’s pale face. His stare was fixed on the ground. “I don’t understand,” mumbled Hubert under his breath.

She cautiously took his hand, “You just seem really unhappy, and I’d like to help.”

Hubert’s lip twitched but he said nothing. He seemed frozen in place, so Bernie bravely began to lead him in the direction of his rooms. He fumbled with his keys as he unlocked his door. He always lit his lamps with magic, which never ceased surprising Bernadetta. She was getting used to seeing magic used off the battlefield, but it still reminded her of war.

Bernadetta wasn’t honestly super sure what she was doing as she pulled his hand along through the rooms towards the back most one. “That is my bedroom,” said Hubert with low enthusiasm as his heels dug into the ground.

Bernadetta tucked her hair behind her ears nervously as she paused at the door, “Um, well, we don’t have to go in there. I just, I know I feel safest in my room, and I thought you might feel safe in yours too.” As she said it the pieces began to click in place; she felt safe in her room _alone_. Maybe having another person forcing their way with you into your room, uninvited, didn’t feel very safe at all. Bernadetta felt her face flaring red as that thought swirled through her mind.

Her spiraling thoughts were interrupted as Hubert gruffly pushed open the door. He didn’t look mad, just perplexed as he snapped his fingers to light up his lamp. The room was small and unadorned. It looked like a place for sleeping and little else. This wasn’t like Bernadetta’s room — packed the brim with everything she loved — this was more like a place where Hubert had to go, begrudgingly, because he hadn’t solved the problem of needing sleep.

Bernadetta pulled off her shoes and then settled on top of the covers of his bed. It was not especially comfortable. The mattress was firm and there was just one thin pillow. Hubert stared at her with a face full of apprehension and confusion.

“Maybe you should get into your sleep clothes,” suggested Bernadetta as she continued to improvise. She knew being in her pajamas always made her feel better.

He silently pulled off his jacket and hung it neatly in his closet. Hubert didn’t wear a lot of adornments, at most sometimes a little brooch at his collar. He slipped off his shoes and quietly pulled his sleep clothes from his dresser before retreating into the privacy of his bathroom to change.

Bernadetta preoccupied herself by looking around his scantly furnished bedroom. The bed was a full sized, and not a coffin as rumored. Hubert had a small oil lamp on his nightstand and little else. Bernie adjusted the pillow and found a knife hidden beneath it. She picked it up in disbelief and set it on the nightstand. As she looked over the bottom shelf on the nightstand a familiar sight caught her attention, an embroidery hoop? She pulled it free and stared.

Spotted pitcher plants. Fly traps open with rich crimson mouths, and one closed on prey. Sundew, with delicate beading on its tendrils. Butterworts dotted with ants. It was a stitch sampler of carnivorous plants. Bernie looked back at the shelf and found a naturalist guide to plants with bookmarks. As she flipped through she saw the various reference illustrations Hubert had been using. He was doing a decent and careful job. There were clearly little mistakes here and there, but overall, it was good work for a beginner.

“Please don’t go through my things,” whispered Hubert from the doorway.

Bernie was startled at being caught, “Sorry.”

His sleep clothes were simple and hung on him unflatteringly. He was all shoulders, and little else. It was easy to forget that under all his layers of minister attire he was just a thin mage who had been forced to train to be a dark knight and barely passed his certifications.

“That was supposed to be a surprise for you,” said Hubert. He still hadn’t moved from the door.

A surprise for her? Had he learned embroidery just to make her a tapestry of her favorite plants? “It looks really good! When did you start this?”

“Months ago,” whispered Hubert. “Right after we got back from Faerghus. It’s not finished.”

Bernadetta carefully returned it to where she had taken from. Well so much for comforting him, this was off to a wonderful start. Bernie tried to remember what Dorothea had done for her; the songstress had basically pulled Bernie from the bed into an embrace, but Bernie was going to have to convince Hubert to actually get into bed.

She patted the little divot in the mattress where Hubert clearly rested every night. He slept towards the nightstand, not the middle of the bed. Hubert sighed and consented to come over. He sat with his back against the headboard and his arms folded, “Are you happy now?”

No. Bernadetta felt extremely small in comparison to him, “Um are you enjoying embroidery? It looks like you’ve been working very hard on it.”

“Yes it is relaxing,” said Hubert in the most wooden voice ever.

Oh Bernie, abort mission! This was turning into a disaster. “I’m sorry Edelgard was yelling at you—”

“The Emperor was yelling at the situation we find ourselves in, not me personally,” said Hubert. Had his arms managed to get into an even tighter fold? He seemed more stressed now than at dinner!

So much for the comforting power of cuddling. Bernie wondered what the hell Dorothea would do, probably sing. Well Bernie didn’t feel brave enough to sing, and anyway what song would she choose? _“Sorry I wanted to give you a hug, now I’m afraid that my grave is dug…”_ Bernadetta found herself gently massaging one of his tightly crossed arms in an effort to do literally anything remotely comforting. His exposed arms were surprisingly hairy, but maybe it was just that his dark hair was so prominent against his pale skin. He so rarely showed any skin at all, and she realized she had never even seen his arms before.

“What are you doing?” Hubert finally asked as he watched her fingers.

Bernadetta grew red with embarrassment, “I want to comfort you but I’m really not any good at this.”

Hubert groaned and Bernie yelped as his arms untangled and drew her in against him, “You’re fine.” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, “I appreciate what you are attempting to do, I just, I am not accustomed to being comforted.”

Bernie cautiously leaned into his embrace and let her arms wrap around his middle. It was _soft_. Not rock hard like in her fantasies, but that was okay. His head tipped back and his eyes were shut as Hubert took a few deep breaths. Bernadetta let her ear rest against his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

“Are we going back to war?” she finally asked quietly.

“No,” whispered Hubert. “We could not possibly win.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” tried Bernadetta again softly. “You seemed really, um, well, you seemed a little scared at dinner.”

She felt him tensing beneath her as he made a sound deep in his throat, “Hmm, it seems I can’t hide myself from you.”

“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything,” admitted Bernadetta as she snuggled in closer.

“Of course I’m afraid of things,” he said softly.

“Like what?” Bernie wondered if Hubert would ever trust her with his fears.

“I’m afraid of Dimitri,” whispered Hubert. His eyes were still shut but his jaw was clenched again. “People say he’s too kind to be king,” Hubert softly scoffed. “Too unhinged is more accurate.” Bernadetta found herself gently rubbing at Hubert’s chest as he spoke, and she could feel him sigh, “I put on a brave face for that stupid wedding, but I hated having to be in the same room as him. He tried to execute me, and the only reason he didn’t was because the professor managed to talk him down.” Hubert’s arm shifted around Bernie, holding her tightly against him. “He called me a rapid dog. He wouldn’t even let me have any last words, because he didn’t want to hear them.” There was a stinging pain in his voice. Bernadetta had never seen Hubert cry, ever. He wasn’t now, but this was just about as close as she had ever seen him coming to tears. Bernadetta could feel his heart beginning to race. Hubert’s voice was small, and slightly broken, “The professor only tried to convinced him that I was worth exchanging for Dedue, not that I was a _person_.”

Hubert cleared his throat and was silent for a few beats. His voice was still raw, “That’s all I am, ever will be, to most people. I’m Edelgard’s attack dog when they’re feeling generous, and her lapdog when their feeling bold. Although, if I had to guess, most people would feel worse about killing an actual dog than me.”

Bernie tightened her hold of him. One of his hands had come up to run along the length of her arm. He softly stroked her as his words continued to spill forth. “I am accustomed to being hated and mistrusted, it comes with the territory of being a Vestra. I know that in being the aggressors of a war, that hate is amplified, but I have no respect for those who would defend terrible traditions,” whispered Hubert. “But the fact is we lost, and now the fate of Fodlan is mostly in the hands of Dimitri, Byleth, and Claude, while Edelgard barely holds what’s left of Adrestia together. Now our former subjects are rebelling, and it looks more and more likely they will only be put down with violence.”

“I trust the professor,” said Bernadetta softly. “It hurt that she didn’t side with us when she woke up, but, maybe that was the only way to end the war as quickly as possible. She’ll do the right thing.”

“Maybe,” murmured Hubert. “She was raised to kill for money though, not ideals. She also didn’t stop Dimitri from torturing Randolph Bergliez, she killed him rather than trying to spare him. Although if the reports are true it was a mercy killing given how beyond repair Dimitri left him.”

Bernie remembered how Edelgard had Randolph burned on a pyre before anyone could see him when his body was sent back to the Imperial army. Randolph’s younger sister had been almost driven insane by her grief as the rumors spread of how her brother’s final hours were spent at the hands of the mad king. Bernie tried not to linger on how Dimitri had been at the height of his madness. It was almost a full year and half since the war ended, and so far he seemed sane enough, “We just have to trust our professor and our old classmates.”

“I’ll leave the trusting to you, I will continue to monitor with supreme suspicion,” said Hubert, finally with an air of lightness to his words. His hand came up to trace the side of her face, “Thank you for being so persistent earlier. It was, nice, to say these things aloud. I’m not sure I’ve ever had anyone to listen to my troubles.”

“I’m not a stranger to keeping things bottled up,” admitted Bernie.

“Perhaps this is something we can get better at, for each other,” suggested Hubert softly.

“I’d like that,” whispered Bernadetta. They were spending more and more time together, but Bernie realized that she knew very little about Hubert, and he in turn knew little about her. She knew almost nothing of his past other than he had always been Edelgard’s vassal. What would he think about her father’s games with the chair? Bernie shut her eyes and focused on just feeling close to him.

Bernadetta settled her hand in the gap between his shirt and his pants. His skin was warm and it did feel like there were some, um, tiny, muscles lurking beneath the skin, but how was his stomach so hairy too?! Was his whole body like this? He must have noticed her noticing, “I’m sorry, it’s not very impressive.”

“What?” Bernadetta looked up to see him staring down at her.

“My body, it’s very average,” sighed Hubert as he shifted a bit so they would be a little more comfortable fitting together.

Bernie felt rather average herself, “I-I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just, I didn’t realize you had so much hair!”

She felt his stomach jolt as he laughed in surprise. Hubert cautiously pulled up his shirt a bit revealing that yes, in fact there was an extremely prominent dark trail leading down— Bernie blushed as she realized where it was going. Hubert laughed more at her reaction, “Ferdinand finds the sheer volume of it very off putting, he offered to shave me on your behalf. I declined.” His laughter died down, “The sauna was always a fun awkward adventure in school. I was essentially a grown man surrounded by boys going through puberty. I know I frightened Ashe immensely.”

“You don’t need to tell me about sauna problems,” complained Bernie, still feeling shy all these years later about the women’s locker room. “Dorothea was always naked every time I ran into her!”

Hubert snorted as he let his shirt settle back into place. “Thank you for making me laugh, I have not found many things humorous recently.”

“Good,” said Bernie feeling like she’d finally accomplished what she’d set out to do. His fingers grazed along her hip and Bernie was suddenly struck how utterly intimate it was to lay in bed beside him like this. “But I think you should go to sleep!”

“It’s still early,” said Hubert softly. It totally was, it wasn’t even 9 pm yet.

Oh, _oh_. Bernie felt a rush go through her as she wondered if he was thinking about what she thought he was thinking about. She wasn’t ready to lose her virginity just yet! “Um, you need sleep! You have to go to bed! I should go!”

“Okay,” laughed Hubert, clearly taking the hint, as he opened up his hug a bit for her to sit up. “Would it be too much to ask for a kiss goodnight?” Hubert glanced at her with a longing look that sent her stomach fluttering.

Bernie blushed, “I can do that.”

It wasn’t tame or short as Hubert’s fingers laced through her hair. Bernie’s heart raced as it ended. Okay maybe she did want to stay a bit longer but ack! NO. “Goodnight Hubert, if you don’t sleep, um, Ferdie and I will be very disappointed with you!” She jumped from his bed and then, because she wasn’t completely ready to run off, pecked him innocently on the cheek as just a final little goodbye, “Don’t stay up all night working on embroidery! I know t-that’s what I would do.”

Hubert smirked, “Well, now that my secret is out maybe I’ll bring it when I have tea with you. I’m afraid I’m a little stuck on how to finish it.”

“Fine! Go to bed,” begged Bernie as she started to go. “Goodnight!”


	27. Bernadina von Marley and the Curse of Virginity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernadetta sets out to write a love letter to Hubert...and ends up writing herself some self indulgent Tina Belcher style friend fiction instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta earn that explicit rating somehow!

Everyone was arriving all at once. Claude had come with Hilda and Lornez as expected, along with two of his generals from the war, Judith and Nadar, who looked unimpressed by Enbarr to say the least. Sylvain was looking uneasily at the proudly displayed Adrestian eagle crest. Then there was the matter of Adrestia’s council of regional leaders. Linhardt and Caspar had come with their fathers, and Countess von Varley arrived in a flurry of too many bags. Petra and the Duke of Gerth were also set to arrive at any moment. The Imperial palace was plenty big but they were running on a skeleton crew to keep down costs and this was stretching their available accommodations to the brink.

“Lorenz could just stay with me,” suggested Ferdinand as he and Hubert looked over the options for housing the unexpected extras.

“That’s rather open of you,” said Hubert carefully.

“I am trying to turn over a more honest leaf,” said Ferdinand nervously. His voice dropped, “And I expect he will be sleeping in my room more often than not.” Well, good for Ferdinand.

“Very well, Lorenz stays with you.” Hubert looked over the people congregating in the entryway to the palace, “Do you think any other people here are _together_?” Caspar and Hilda had engaged in a little fling in Faerghus, but it would be a bit much to assume that was more than a one night stand. Judith and Nadar were looking rather familiar with each other, but again it was best not to offend Claude’s entourage.

“I have no idea,” said Ferdinand as he pulled at his cravat. “Perhaps Bernadetta’s mother can stay with her? Surely we can bring in an extra bed.”

Hubert tried not to grumble at the perfectly reasonable suggestion. Things seemed to be finally physically moving along between him and Bernadetta. Cuddling with her had been far nicer than Hubert had ever expected and he craved more. However, it seemed rather improbable he’d get to make out with Bernadetta with her mother visiting but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. “I will ask Bernadetta if that will be acceptable to her.”

Hubert attempted to smooth his hair back as he prepared to talk to Bernadetta. He was trying to make an effort with his appearance to impress her, although his looks were fighting him every step of the way. He had gone to his tailor with Ferdinand to commission some new outfits. Ferdinand had been overeager as he tried to push the make-over too far: new shoes, a haircut, some ‘sexy’ black gloves instead of the stark boring white Hubert was used to. The Prime Minister had called Hubert out for trying to use baggy pants to balance his big shoulders and his thin legs, and had tried to get him to switch to fancier underwear. Hubert had relented on the pants, maybe his did lean unfashionably loose, but wasn’t ready for Ferdinand to start picking out undergarments. He mostly just wanted to channel his military uniform; sure he was a minister, but he was a general first. The end result was a rather militant looking civilian outfit that made Hubert feel appropriately intimidating. He wore his flower proudly to balance out his scary air.

“Bernadetta, might I trouble you to ask if you would be alright if we hosted your mother in your guest accommodations?”

Bernadetta face was mixed with “ _oh sure_ ” and “ _oh no!_ ”. Hubert tried his best to look apologetic, “It’s just you have several rooms, and we’d have to open another wing—”

“It’s fine,” said Bernadetta resolutely. “I um, I’m not used to sharing my space, but it’s not a long visit and it’s my mom so I understand.”

“Thank you so much,” said Hubert genuinely. This truly made his job less stressful.

“B-but maybe if you could suggest some places where there aren’t people normally, I would like that,” blurted out Bernadetta.

Hubert paused to consider it. “I could um, give you a key to my rooms. No one dares go in there. I’m sure to be very busy this week so I won’t be in there other than late at night, if you need somewhere to escape to during more normal hours.”

“Y-you’d trust me in your room alone?” Bernadetta looked positively terrified by the idea.

“Well you’ve already found my embroidery, I don’t think I have anything else to hide,” said Hubert honestly. She’d learn that he had boring tastes in toiletries and dull reading material. Besides, all the truly grisly stuff was kept in his work office in the basement. His apartments were just his personal things. “As long as you don’t drink all my coffee, or creep around in there when I’m sleeping, I don’t see why you shouldn’t make use of that space if you need to.” She had definitely looked at his under-pillow knife like that wasn’t normal but old habits died hard. “I can give you a spare key if you’d like.”

“I um, well, that would be nice,” admitted Bernadetta. She looked up at him quickly, “I um I promise I won’t move anything!”

Hubert waved her off, “Do what you need to. No pressure.”

***

Bernadetta hugged her mother as the Countess’ things were brought up to her guest rooms. “How have things been at home?”

The Countess let out a languid sigh, “Well, sadly when your father was hauled away all the soldiers were reassigned.”

Bernie felt suddenly really bad about cramping her mom’s blossoming sex life, “Oh! Uh, I didn’t mean—”

“Bernie, it’s fine! I’d rather you be comfortable in our home than anything else,” promised the Countess as she beamed down at her daughter. “And the divorce was an appreciated touch. I’m a single woman here in Enbarr on vacation, who knows who I might meet.”

Bernadetta blushed as she considered it and the Countess laughed, “Oh my goodness, I’m joking! I mean I won’t say no to love, but I’m here to see you.” She paused and pretended to be very serious, “And for official state business of course.”

“Are, are you going to visit him in prison?” asked Bernie weakly. She had no desire to see her father ever again, but she could totally see her mother goading him during a visit.

“No, I think I’d rather go shopping and see an opera with my favorite person,” shrugged her mother as she wrapped an arm around her daughter. She sighed, “I was asked to dinner tonight by Count Bergliez and Count Hevring, and then they had an argument about who asked first so I suggested we all go out together. I’m a little nervous. Wish me luck!”

As her mother got ready for dinner, Bernie slipped away to be on her own. Bernadetta loved her mother, but she did not love sharing her space. She retreated to the library to work on a little piece of writing she’d been playing around with. She had been rereading Hubert’s love letter and wanted to express her feelings towards him. Bernadetta wanted to let him know how much she was enjoying their time together, how sweet she found his embroidery, how much she appreciated all he did for her. She wasn’t even as afraid of him any more. She wasn’t sure she _loved_ him yet, but, she trusted him, and that was a pretty big deal.

She trusted that when he told her that her art was good, he was being honest. She trusted that if she slipped and fell on ice he wouldn’t stop until she was safe back up on her feet. She trusted him that when he gave her a key to his rooms it wasn’t booby trapped (hopefully) and that it meant he trusted her too. She trusted that when he said he liked her, he really truly meant it.

Yet somehow her response was not really turning out as elegant as Hubert’s love letter. It was actually inelegant to put it bluntly, and not something she wanted her mother, or anyone for that matter, catching a glimpse of so she couldn’t hide it in her room. What had been meant to be a little confessional note of her own about how she trusted Hubert, and what she wanted to trust him with, had spiraled into a self-indulgent short story in the fictitious Bernadina von Marley saga. It felt like whenever she had something real she wanted to let out, it was much easier to dress it up in fiction, and apparently her feelings for Hubert were no different. Rereading it was making her cringe and blush at what she’d written. She couldn’t show Hubert this!

_Harold von Hestra wrapped his long thin fingers around Bernadina’s wrists as he pinned her to her bed, “Are you ready for me my love?” His green eyes glittered with the hunger of a thousand wolves ready to tear her apart. Once she had been terrified of him, now she was terrified of being without him._

_“Please, I need it,” pleaded Bernadina. “But, I’m afraid my first time will hurt!”_

_“I will never hurt you,” promised Harold before he kissed her. He let her wrists go and instead focused on getting the laces of her corset undone. Upon seeing her breasts he purred, “They are as perfect as I always imagined.”_

_“They’re not too small?” whispered Bernadina with worry._

_“I prefer them to be this exact size,” said Harold. With that his lips started to suck around one of her nipples. Her skin sang at the tantalizing touch of his tongue and she could not wait until his mouth moved lower to more sensitive regions. This was it, this was finally happening._

_Bernadina cried out in ecstasy, “Stop teasing me!”_

_“Oh my dear,” whispered Harold in his sexy, deep voice. “I must prepare you for my generously sized cock, we should not rush this bit along. It’s flattering to see you so needy, so excited, but, my love, I want to enjoy every inch of you, not just the forbidden warm stretch between your legs I have been dreaming about for so long.”_

_“Oh please get me ready,” begged Bernadina. “I can’t wait that much longer! You must take my virginity tonight or the curse of my crest will turn me into a terrible monster!”_

_Her evil father had cast the spell upon her as a baby. He promised no one would ever love her and she would be doomed to live a lonely life as an unlovable, unmarriageable abomination. Then her awful father would never have to give up her rightful inheritance._

_Harold alone could save her from her fate: if she was still a virgin come the final stroke of midnight of her twenty-fifth birthday she would surely turn into something between a carnivorous plant and the woman she was. Her hair would turn to vines, her skin would go green, and she’d be struck with an insatiable blood lust. Harold promised he would love her no matter what she looked like, but she hoped all she turned into was a wet, hot mess with his spend inside her rather than the leafy alternative._

_“Do not worry, true love’s touch will save you tonight,” promised Harold. His hands traced up her legs and she felt his gloved fingers sneaking inside her. He brought the damp glove up for her inspection, “You are so incredibly wet, is this all from thinking about me?”_

_“Yes,” moaned Bernadina longingly. She wanted it, she needed it! Harold smiled as he freed her of her remaining clothes and decided it was time to do a taste test of her warm entrance. His tongue was so sharp when it was verbally skewering his opponents, but now it was daringly darting in an out of her and swirling around her clit like a storm of sensuality. Bernadina clawed at the sheets as her breath caught in her throat in shock and surprise at the sensations running like lighting through her poor wanting body._

_Bernadina screamed, not in fear but in pure elation as he drove her to spurt on his face. She was mortified at the explosiveness of her orgasm, but he delicately wiped her slick from his cheeks and licked his fingers. “Delicious my dear, you are simply delectable, just like your excellent cooking.”_

_“I need you inside of me,” she begged, it was almost midnight! Harold smiled with his devious grin and took off his own clothes. She wanted to run her fingers through the thick black hair that ran down his stomach and around his cock, but she’d have to save it for later. Right now, she was hypnotized by her first ever glimpse of his naked body._

_He was as wild and hairy as a demonic beast, and hung like one too. Thea was not joking when she described Harold’s length as legendary. It had to be a record and Bernadina was suddenly struck with the fear she might not survive this night even if the curse was broken. Surely his gargantuan member would rip her in two!_

_He spread her legs and pulled her towards him. He kept a tight hold of her ass as he plunged himself in. She braced herself for a pain that never came. Instead, all she knew was pleasure. Amazingly, he had gotten all of himself within her without splitting her apart! She had never felt anything go so deep. Then he started to thrust and ~~Bernadetta~~ BERNADINA was seized with the throes of yet another orgasm._

_Harold’s smile stretched with joy at the sight of her writhing beneath him, “Oh my dearest Bernadina, we are just getting started.”_

_The clock struck midnight as Harold started to release inside of her. He managed to just finish before the chimes of the bell. She was no longer a virgin, and Harold had saved her from the curse of her crest._

Bernie groaned. Hubert didn’t talk like that at all! No one talked like that. Ugh. She slammed her notebook shut. Honestly, this was all Manuela’s fault. If not for that one time Bernie got stuck for a week in the infirmary during the war with the only reading material being Manuela’s special collection of books, Bernie would have never caught the smut bug.

Bernie also wasn’t quite sure she wanted to outright tell Hubert that she was interested in sex. She was absolutely itching to lose her virginity and get that over with, and Hubert clearly desired her. He probably wouldn’t need much convincing to get him into bed at all. However, what if once she'd done the deed she regretted it and couldn't take it back?

She really, truly didn’t want “it” to be special; her virginity was precious to her father, it shouldn’t be to Bernie, right?! Yet a not insignificant part of her knew it was a really, really big deal to be that close to another person. She knew she wasn’t like some of her friends or her mother who could just have sex and leave it at that. Bernie didn’t get close to people easily, and this was about as close as one could get! She wanted that closeness with Hubert, and she trusted that he would make losing her virginity as good as possible. However, there were a number of nagging doubts echoing in her heart, and the loudest one was her fear that if he really got to know her, all of her, he might not like her as much.

She would deal with writing a real confessional letter later and never let this smut see the light of day. She wasn’t going to destroy it. She kind of liked it, but it was private! This was, this was just for her. Bernadetta hid the Bernadina von Marley saga safely among some really boring looking books that had enough dust on them that she was sure no one would chance upon it during the week her mother was here. Who was possibly reading _The History of Sreng_? No one in Enbarr, that was for sure.

***

Sylvain could not sleep at all because he was so nervous having to represent the Kingdom in Enbarr. Dimitri had tried to say how great Sylvain was at strategy games and this would be easy for him. This was not easy, this was terrible. He decided the best way to sleep was to read himself into a stupor. A good history book always did that for him. He perused the available titles and paused at a little book jammed in with the big volumes. Sylvain flipped through the handwritten text and skimmed it over. It was dirty, extremely so. Sylvain shrugged, well, this would certainly be more fun to read than a history book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a thread on r/fanfic about lines in smut people were tired of...and I attempted to work all of them in. Sorry, not sorry...actually very sorry.


	28. A premature confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert takes a hit for the woman he loves...and oh no, did he just admit that out loud?

Sylvain had all but figured Bernadina von Marley was Bernadetta von Varley, and so the author had to be Bernie or someone weirdly obsessed with her. He’d marathoned the entire notebook and it was the greatest amateur work he’d ever read. What he needed to know now was the following: was there more, would there be more, and had how much of this was real? He had of course noticed how cutesy Hubert and Bernadetta were being around each other. They were clearly in a very new relationship, but were they also tearing each other apart on the regular like in the latest installment of the notebook? Was Hubert’s cock as legendary as Harold von Hestra’s? Sylvain was dying to know to settle an argument he and Annette had come up with way back at the start of school when they ranked all the dudes at Garreg Mach. Annette had been grossed out by the very idea of Hubert having a penis and insisted it was probably crooked and weird looking like him, but Sylvain was willing to give the dude a bone and suggested it was probably the best in the Black Eagle House (although maybe that wasn’t saying much).

Goddess, if Ingrid knew that Sylvain had jerked off to Bernadetta’s weird ass friend fiction instead of coming up with a plan of what to say to the Adrestian council, Galatea would probably kill him and Felix would totally get in on the carnage. The Emperor sat at the head of the table, flanked by Hubert standing right behind her big chair. Of course in a room full of seated people, Hubert would be standing. Typical. To Edelgard’s right sat Ferdinand and to her left sat Claude. His entourage (minus Hilda, she was probably still sleeping) had all been given spots, and across from them there was the Minister of Military Affairs, Count von Bergliez, and the Minister of Domestic Affairs, the Count Hevring. Countess von Varley was there to represent her territory. There was also the new Queen of Brigid, Petra, and her long term sponsor, the Duke of Gerth who was Minister of the Exterior. No pressure Sylvain, literally all of the most important people outside of the Kingdom in Fodlan were here.

Everyone was looking at Sylvain. _Oh shit_ , this was his moment. He got up and cleared his throat, “As you are well aware, the territories formerly known as Nuvelle and Arundel are both in open revolt and Ochs is expected to follow suit.”

“And what is your King’s planned response?” asked Edelgard stiffly. She was dressed in her full wartime regalia, they all were, goddess this bunch was dramatic.

Sylvain felt a shiver run through him as she glared at him. “Uh, well, we’re going to send the army to negotiate with the rebels.”

“Who will do the negotiating?”

“Mercedes von Martritz and Felix Frauldarius are on their way there now,” said Sylvain.

There was a collective groan from the Garreg Mach alumni. Sylvain grimaced, “Mercedes is handling the talking.”

“And Felix the killing?” asked Hubert sharply. Ah fuck, Hubert. Even after reading Bernadetta’s hilarious erotica about him, Sylvain was still creeped out by Hubert’s stare. He was so scary and intense all the time. Anyway, Felix deserved more credit. He was horrified by the way Dimitri had conducted himself during the last rebellion.

“Will the Archbishop be involved at all?” asked Edelgard with a hint of hope.

Sylvain winced, “Uh, no.”

“Is there a particular reason why the head of the Church isn’t helping attain a peaceful resolution?” asked Ferdinand.

 _Don’t tell them, don’t tell them, don’t tell them_. Sylvain choked a bit as his hands awkwardly moved while he talked, “She’s um, she’s indisposed at the moment—” he realized he was subconsciously pantomiming a pregnant belly and quickly threw his hands behind his back. Everyone was staring at him.

“Congratulations to the royal couple?” tried Claude cautiously. “Will there be an official announcement?”

“I’m sure there will be soon,” said Sylvain weakly. Fuck! This was literally the one thing they were hoping to keep under wraps a little longer. It would be just like Adrestia to kick the archbishop while her head was fixed in a trash can. Morning sickness had been kicking the professor’s ass for the the last six or so months.

“When is she due? Surely she could still handle this, she’s pregnant not dying,” said Edelgard with clear annoyance.

“Ugh, I think in about, uh, two or three months,” started Sylvain.

Hubert’s lip curled, “You know it takes nine months for human gestation.” Who called it gestation! Weirdo.

“She might have been a _little_ pregnant at the wedding,” said Sylvain weakly.

“A little pregnant?” demanded Hubert incredulously. “She either was or she wasn’t.”

“Okay fine! Goddess! She was already knocked up at the wedding!” said Sylvain with exasperation. Everyone had just assumed the exposed midriff was a design choice not a last minute ‘ _oh shit this no longer fits right_ ’ choice.

Edelgard was massaging her temples, “So we cannot count on her presence. Will the King stay by his Queen’s side while she is _indisposed_?”

“I’m sure he will,” said Sylvain with confidence. Dimitri was beside himself with nerves over the coming baby. He was more anxious than Byleth. Sylvain needed to get back on message, “If we can have your assurances that the Empire will not interfere, we believe we can find a peaceful resolution to this.”

Edelgard rose and looked at her council and then to Sylvain, “We must confer, privately, we’ll give you an answer by tomorrow.”

Sylvain found himself dismissed along with all the other non-Adrestians. At the very least he could now find Berndetta to demand the low down on this manuscript he had safely stowed away in his bag.

Bernadetta was finishing up her breakfast as Sylvain entered the dining room. She seemed to be talking to herself, well Bernadetta was always a little weird, “That fruit tart really hit the spot.” She sighed happily to herself, “Time to get nice and snug, finish up that sewing—”

“Hey Bernadetta, you look pretty happy, are you celebrating something?” Celebrating finding someone who was regularly taking her to pound town and inspiring such delicious fiction?

“What? N-no, nothing at all!”

“Hey relax, I understand if you’d rather not tell me, but, I believe you might have left something in the library, a half-written manuscript? Your original work I presume? I gave a gander and hey, you’re a really talented writer!”

Bernadetta stared at him in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I peeked at the first page, then the next, and I couldn’t stop!” said Sylvain honestly. He was hooked, the smut was maybe the most unintentionally hilarious part but the story overall was really enjoyable, “You know I think it’s good enough to publish, it’s an adventure story that will make people laugh and cry! I love how you never know what mess the hero is going to get herself into next. I'm dying to read more!”

Bernadetta’s jaw had dropped open in abject horror. She stared at Sylvain with what could only be described as a silent scream. “Y-you read my book?”

“Yeah, and I loved it!” said Sylvain enthusiastically.

Bernadetta let out a real scream, “Please forget everything you read!” She bolted from the dining room. Sylvain stared at the smoke trail she left in her wake and wondered what he was supposed to do with the notebook. Maybe he’d just write her a nice review and leave in it inside.

***

Hubert had really been hoping he’d find Bernadetta in his rooms. No one had seen her since breakfast and she didn’t appear to be in any of her usual haunts. Yet his apartment was dark and empty. Hubert sighed and lit up his fire. Perhaps he could brew some coffee and stay awake to do a proper search of the palace. Hubert stripped off his jacket and opened his closet to hang it up, and nearly had a heart attack.

Bernadetta was balled up in his cloak in the bottom of his closet. Hubert crouched down and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. She sniffled and buried herself further into his cloak. “Bernadetta, are you alright?”

The trembling bump in the pile of clothes emitted a soft, “No.”

“Do you want to come out of there and sit somewhere more comfortable?”

“No,”

Hubert sighed, “Then you leave me no choice.” He squeezed his way into the closet to curl up beside her.

“What are you doing?” she sniffled. Her face emerged from the folds of the cloak to stare at him. Her gray eyes were rimmed in red and it was clear from the blotchy spots on her face that she’d been sobbing not too long ago.

“Well, you wish to stay in here, so I suppose I must stay in here too,” said Hubert carefully as he continued to try to fit himself into the bottom of the closet. It was tight.

Bernadetta sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve, “Hubert we’re both not going to fit in here.”

“Not with that attitude,” grunted Hubert as he folded his legs up uncomfortably. He smirked at her as if to say “ _see I fit_ ” even though he clearly did not. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Bernadetta looked like she had come to a stage in her grief where she had reached acceptance. “I think the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me has just happened.” She sighed and wrapped herself up tightly as she shifted around. She gave Hubert room to stretch out his too long legs, and then rested her head on his lap, “I think I have to move, I can’t possibly stay here. I might have to go to Dagda, I might change my name.”

Hubert gently stroked her hair, “I’ve always wanted to visit Dagda, I hear they have the best coffee—”

“I’m the one who needs to go into exile not you,” whimpered Bernadetta as a few more tears escaped.

“And what offense are you being exiled for?”

Bernadetta squeezed her eyes shut, “Someone found something that I wrote, something extremely embarrassing.” She covered her face with her hands, “Sylvain read my book, and I think he still has it.”

“Sylvain?” Hubert’s skin prickled with ill intent towards Gautier. “Do you need me to get it back?”

Bernadetta rolled and dramatically latched onto Hubert’s shirt, “You cannot under any circumstances read it.”

“What’s it about?” asked Hubert uneasily.

Bernadetta took a deep breath, “It’s a, it’s a fantasy version of my life. Like, extremely embellished.” Her voice was small, “My mom encouraged me to write my feelings and memories out to help me get through some bad stuff that’s happened, things from my childhood, things from the war. B-but when I started to try to write about the real stuff it was too painful.” She shuddered and choked back a sob. “So instead I wrote about myself as this amazing main character doing all the stuff I wished I had done instead. The fantasy Bernie is brave and unstoppable. The real Bernie is just, scared.”

“I think the real Bernie is pretty brave and unstoppable,” said Hubert gently. Sometimes she was most brave and unstoppable because she was scared.

“It’s a really personal story,” whispered Bernadetta as she dried her eyes on his shirt. “I wrote it for me, not for anyone else to read, and now, now Sylvain said he read the whole thing, and he _liked_ it. He wanted to know if there would be more! I’m never writing anything again!”

“Well,” started Hubert carefully. He was no stranger to wanting to keep things, especially about the past, private. Yet it sounded like Bernadetta was greatly helped by writing painful things out, and she shouldn’t stop if she enjoyed it, “Sometimes the best stories are ones inspired by reality.” He brushed at her hair and wished he knew more about what she was working through, “Sometimes it’s hard to talk about bad things that have happened, and it sounds like it’s easier for you to write about them in a removed way. And from the sounds of it you did a very good job at doing it.” He paused and sighed, “Would you be more comfortable if we just told Sylvain it was purely fiction?”

“Yeah, maybe, but, there’s,” her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, “There’s also some serious romantic stuff in there. And all the characters are kinda sorta based on the Black Eagles. I mean I wrote some really, really smutty stuff, and the worst of it was um, well, it was about me and you,” admitted Bernadetta quietly as she buried her face into his stomach. Her words were muffled in his shirt, “If I could burn Sylvain’s brain I would because no one should have ever read that, ever.”

Hubert wasn’t sure whether to find it funny or sweet that Bernadetta had written a raunchy sex scene about the two of them. Honestly, it was exciting to think about. He was keen to read it, but he couldn’t tell her that because Bernadetta was clearly very upset. “Is it obvious that _you_ wrote it?”

“It’s pretty obvious that it’s about me, I mean I named the main character Bernadina von Marley,” sniffled Bernadetta. “But Bernie’s not owning up to penning that smut! I-I can’t, it’s too embarrassing, it was just a first draft!”

“Let’s go fix this,” said Hubert as he helped her up.

“W-What?” Bernadetta looked horrified.

“We’re going to go get that book back, and I’ll ensure Sylvain’s silence,” promised Hubert darkly.

Bernadetta was hiding a few doors down, still wrapped up in Hubert’s cloak as if it were some sort of shield, even as it drug on the ground around her because Hubert was almost a foot taller than her. Hubert gave her a wink and then pounded on Sylvain’s door with a grim expression plastered to his face.

Gautier answered in his barely-there pajamas and looked horrified to be getting such a late-night visit from his least favorite person, “Hubert! Hubie, hey.”

“The book,” said Hubert humorlessly as he extended his hand.

“Uh, right,” Sylvain paled as he went back into the room and rummaged around. He paused before handing it over, “I mean I think I should be giving this back to Bernadetta, not to you—”

“This was not meant to be read by anyone other than Bernadetta, you’ve mortified her enough for one lifetime,” hissed Hubert as he plucked the book from Sylvain’s hands. “This was private.”

“It was really good! It was like all my favorite genres – horror, adventure, hell, even romance – all rolled into one! It was amazing, parts moved me to tears, and it was really humorous, I enjoyed it a lot,” said Sylvain. He produced another piece of paper, “I even wrote a review!”

Hubert was dying to know what Bernadetta had written as he snatched the glowing review. “Sylvain if you even think about what you’ve read here again, I will destroy you. If you so much as breath a word about it to anyone, peace treaties be damned, I will end you and I will enjoy doing so.”

Sylvain gulped, “Uh, um—”

Hubert held up the notebook with a warning look, “Whatever you think you read, you’re very mistaken.”

“Well, I mean it’s clearly Bernadetta’s fantasy—” started Sylvain. Down the hall Hubert could see Bernadetta pulling at her hair and mouthing _‘nooo’_.

“It’s not _her_ fantasy, it’s a fantasy _about_ her,” said Hubert carefully as he folded the review and safely tucked it inside the notebook. He gave a fleeting look to where Bernadetta was cowering, and then back at Sylvain, “I wrote it, as a gift for her because I love her very much and wanted to give her a story worthy of how excellent she is. She’s my beautiful muse, and I write for her eyes alone.” He gave Sylvain the most severe expression he could muster.

“Y-you,” stuttered Sylvain, unable to finish the thought as Hubert glared at him. “That, you, the sex scene—”

Hubert cleared his throat, “Now do you understand how serious I am when I say I will completely kill you if you ever bring this up again?”

“Yes,” whispered Sylvain as he shrank into his guest room. “You have the book, now please leave me alone!” He practically slammed the door in Hubert’s face. Down the hall, Bernadetta jumped up with a silent cheer.

Bernadetta took a possessive hold of the book once it was safely back in her hands. Hubert gave a nod in the direction of the palace kitchens, “Have you eaten since breakfast?”

Bernadetta shook her head, “I found some stale crackers in your pantry but other than that no.”

“Will you allow me to cook for you?” asked Hubert as he offered his arm. Bernadetta nodded and took it.

“Are we allowed in here?” asked Bernadetta uncertainly as Hubert opened up the massive palace kitchens.

Hubert nodded, “I’m Minister of the Imperial Household, there’s nowhere in the palace that’s off limits to me.” He lit up a wood fire oven and got the supplies to whip her up an appropriately sized snack for someone who hadn’t really eaten all day but might want to go to bed soon. It was nearly midnight.

Bernadetta sat on a counter and read over her review from Sylvain. “I really can’t believe he liked this so much.” She held up the review, “He loved it all, especially the romantic parts. Those were the worst parts!”

“I apologize for taking any credit,” said Hubert as he melted some butter into the pan. He cut a nice thick slice of bread and carefully cut a hole in its center. He cracked an egg in the middle and let it sit at the edge of the oven. This was a comforting meal his mother always made him when she felt like he’d been punished more than he should have for something; it was a familiar dish he’d probably eaten too much as a child.

“I don’t think you would have taken any credit if you had read it,” moaned Bernadetta as she opened up the notebook and flipped through her work.

“Well, I won’t say I’m not curious about it,” admitted Hubert, “I’d read anything you’re comfortable sharing, but I appreciate the desire to keep certain things private.”

She glanced up at him with a shy and uncertain look, “Um, did you mean what you said to Sylvain?”

“What that I’d kill him if he talked? No, I would probably only maim him, a little,” said Hubert with a chuckle as he checked the egg-in-toast. It wasn’t quite ready to flip.

“Not that part,” blushed Bernadetta. “The, the thing you said about, about loving me.”

Hubert felt a jolt go through him. The admission had slipped out, and he had merely hoped she wasn’t close enough to hear him. Hubert turned and checked the toast again and found that no, two seconds later it was still not ready to flip. He shoved the cast iron pan closer to the fire. “Oh, I, well,” his words came out muddled and panicked. He wasn’t really ready to say ‘I love you’ to her, not because he didn’t feel those emotions burning within him whenever he thought about her, but because the last time he had said something like that it had gone so disastrously. All he was managing were a few awkward ‘ums’ and ‘uhs’ as he wondered what to say.

Bernadetta was staring at him as he faltered. Hubert felt his chest growing tight as he thought back to telling Edelgard that he was in love with her and how she had looked at him dumbstruck by the admission. Then she had left the tent and left him behind, critically killing any hopes that he still held at that point that they might ever be together. That had managed to hurt so much, so deeply, that the idea of Bernadetta doing the same to him right now was doing something absolutely awful to his heart.

“This is, this isn’t how I wanted to say such things to you,” said Hubert as he rubbed at one arm. He didn’t like to gamble, and he didn’t want to say anything like this unless he was confident she might feel the same way back. He knew he was being cowardly about his own feelings, and now he was caught. What was he supposed to admit? That’d he’d been pining over Bernadetta with what could best be described as a schoolboy crush for a few years until he gave up, and now he was beside himself with joy that she could finally stand to be around him long enough for him to fumble his way through courting her? It was far too early to say something like the forbidden L word, even if he was pretty sure he felt it.

Yet did he? What did he know about love anyway? The last person who had regularly said ‘I love you’ to him had been his mother and she’d been dead for fifteen years. His father certainly never felt anything like that towards him, and if he did, he had a terrible way of communicating it. Edelgard loved him in a non-romantic, trusted friend sort of way, but she wasn’t one to say it often. Hubert felt the tension twisting at his gut as he fell into the safety of trying to diminish his feelings, “I um, I would say what I feel is closer to love than not.”

“Hubert, I,” started Bernadetta softly. She glanced up and suddenly looked struck with panic, “I, I think whatever you’re cooking is burning!”

Hubert spun and saw that the egg-in-toast was smoking. He pulled the pan free in a reflexive rush and burnt his hand in the process. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” hissed Hubert in pain as he wondered why the hell he always took his gloves off to cook, that’s apparently when he needed them on most. He wished he had a glove for his whole body to hide in right now, this had really gone to shit. He begrudgingly flipped the toast and found the one side all blackened. He got an oven mitt to actually push it back so it could finish cooking even though it was probably burned beyond something fit to serve. It was easier to just let it crisp up to ash, which was about where his heart was at right now.

Hubert held his burned hand and closed his eyes as he faced the oven. He finally looked at it and found that there was a nice shining pink line across his hand in the shape of the pan’s handle. Hubert sighed and internally cursed his mistake, well, really all the mistakes he’d managed to make in the last twenty minutes.

Bernadetta made her way over and took his hand. She sucked in a breath, “That looks bad.”

“I’m fine,” whispered Hubert even though he very much wasn’t. The burn was inconsequential compared to the pain of a love confession uttered too soon to possibly be returned. He felt like a fool.

Bernadetta went and took a clean dishcloth to soak in cold water. She gently wrapped Hubert’s hand with it, “I’m sorry I never learned healing magic. I really should have—”

“It’s really hard to do,” murmured Hubert. He himself was awful at faith magic. Dorothea had overcome her difficulties with it after a ton of practice, but Hubert had never managed to learn more than Heal.

Bernadetta carefully put on an oven mitt and took a look at the mortally wounded midnight snack, “Well it smells delicious!”

Hubert watched as she plated it and undoubtedly suffered through a bite on his behalf, “You don’t need to eat that, I’m sure it’s disgusting.”

“I mean it looks terrible but it tastes fine,” Bernadetta assured him. “One time, I was cooking for my parents and when I was cracking pepper over the finished dish, the grinder broke and dumped all the peppercorns into the food! That was truly unsalvageable. My mom was polite about it as she spit out peppercorns through the whole meal, but it was really bad.”

Hubert’s mouth twitched into a weak grin as he pictured the Countess praising Bernadetta’s cooking while trying to discreetly spit each bite into a napkin. “What did your father do?”

Bernadetta’s face paled and she quickly stuffed another bite of burned egg-in-toast into her mouth. Hubert got the sense he should not have asked, “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

Bernadetta swallowed her too big bite and cleared her throat with a cough. “Let’s just say that’s the sort of thing that Bernadina von Marley would have laughed at and hit him with a frying pan over.” She forced a patently fake smile onto her face.

Hubert didn’t laugh. “Did that make it into your story?”

Bernadetta’s fake smile faded, “That? No, that was just a small thing.” She continued to eat quietly.

“Sorry,” whispered Hubert again. “I shouldn’t keep asking you about things you don’t wish to speak about.”

“No, I, it um, it hurts a lot to talk about, but sometimes it’s the things that hurt that are most important to tell someone else about,” mumbled Bernadetta as she finished up her crispy meal.

The advice rang in his head. He checked the burn again on his hand, it was relatively minor all things considered, and it would heal in time. He knew his heart would heal too. He’d survived a much worse rejection once, he could take this, “When I told Sylvain I loved you, I meant it, I’ve just been afraid to tell you because I am afraid I am rushing things.”

Bernadetta said nothing. Hubert sighed and looked up to meet her eyes and found them glazed over. Hubert squinted and waved his hand in front of her face. She had fainted while standing up, just like she had in their first significant run in so many years ago in school. Hubert pursed his lips and decided he’d clean up the kitchen before trying to wake her.

She was solidly passed out as Hubert tried to coax her up. Hubert carried her carefully back to her room and tried the door. Locked. He knocked, and waited. If the Countess was inside, she wasn’t answering. Hubert yawned and decided the best course was to give Bernadetta his bed and take the couch.

He hoped she was comfortable in her clothes because there was no way in hell he was changing her into something else as he tucked her in. Hubert did set out an undershirt and a pair of wool socks just in case she did wake up and desired to get into something else, but he very much doubted she was waking up any time soon.

He made sure to take away the under-pillow knife so that she wouldn’t stab herself accidentally. He left her precious handwritten book unread and made sure to put it on the nightstand. It was begging him to peek – discretely poking his nose into other people’s business was sort of a pathological condition for him, it made him a great spy and a super annoying ally – but Hubert decided reading it would feel better if she was giving him permission to.

***

Ferdinand arrived at breakfast with Lorenz. The two had slept side by side for two straight nights...and no one had said anything at all about the arrangement. Ferdinand was feeling a little bold as he joined Caspar and Hilda, who had also arrived together to the dining room, and let his arm drape over the back of Lorenz’s chair.

“Are you two fucking?” asked Caspar as he buttered his biscuit.

Hilda spit her tea back into her cup, “Caspar!”

“What? We are, I just want to know if they are,” grumbled Caspar.

“Blah! Don’t tell them that,” hissed Hilda as she glared at him.

“You said not to tell anyone about bringing in Lin, not about just the two of us, ahh,” Caspar’s voice trailed off as he realized what he was saying.

“Oh my goddess you are so dumb,” moaned Hilda as she buried her face into her arms.

Lorenz cleared his throat, “Ferdiand and I don’t _fuck_ , we make love.” That sentiment warmed Ferdinand, did he, did he love Lorenz? Did Lorenz love him back? He hoped he wasn’t getting too red at the thought.

“Okay,” said Caspar slowly as he jammed his biscuit into his face.

“Okay?” demanded Ferdinand feeling fired up and ready to defend his relationship with Lorenz. It was the single most significant romantic interaction he’d every had and he wanted to protect it. Caspar was generally rude and obtuse but this was offensive. “Is it okay with you?” Ferdinand’s fingers wrapped around his butter knife, he was ready to brawl.

“Yeah why wouldn’t it be?” asked Caspar with his mouth full of half chewed breakfast. He swallowed. “I mean now you know I’m down for a two dude one chick threesome, which is only a pussy away from what you’re doing—”

Ferdinand wanted to join Hilda in hiding but Lorenz just laughed, “You Adrestians are always so colorful.”

Ferdinand watched as Bernadetta came to breakfast in the clothes she had been wearing the day before. It looked like she had slept in them, which was odd, when Hubert appeared right behind her. They were awfully close as their hands brushed over each other while grabbing fruit. Bernadetta blushed and giggled and continued to build her breakfast plate.

“I bet those two are fucking too,” said Caspar, giving a voice to what Ferdinand was thinking. He waved Linhardt over to their table, “Sorry bro, I sort of told everyone about—”

Linhardt, who had two noticeable hickeys on either side of his neck and looked sleep deprived, raised a patient hand at his best friend, “Don’t, just, don’t.”

Hilda was almost hiding under the table at this point, “What is your problem Caspar?”

“What! I just like knowing who’s doing who,” said Caspar as if that were normal. “It’s not like when we were all in tents at war and you just heard every single thing! I don’t think anyone got to hear me shouting last night.”

“The dead heard you,” sighed Linhardt as he worked on removing the shell from a hard boiled egg.

Sylvain entered the dining room, stopped in the doorway, stared at Hubert with total fright, and then left without taking any food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have really broken a full pepper grinder over a freshly finished special Valentine's day meal, and uh, it was terrible (tasting).
> 
> Also, I know I use Caspar a lot as dumb comic relief -- I love ma punchy boy but sometimes he's just so dumb


	29. The U Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up until..."unmarriageable".

Bernadetta had taken the surprise of Hubert’s love confession rather well, all things considered. She didn’t feel quite the same, but she wasn’t ruling it out that she might feel the same someday. If Hubert had known what would come from opening up about his feelings for Bernadetta he would have made a point to do it much earlier. Right now they were in his drawing room, and Hubert found himself pinned into the corner of his couch as Bernadetta straddled his lap and kissed him. Hubert’s arms were begging his brain for direction while his whole body was screaming red alert as he tried to figure out the line between doing enough and doing too much. The last thing he wanted to do was send her running like he had when they were dancing at the wedding, but as she ground her hips against his he had to hope she knew what she was doing was going to produce a response.

It felt like she was trying to fuck him through his clothes. It felt extremely good but also extremely bad at the same time. As her lips moved from his out onto his neck, Hubert shut his eyes and felt his hands coming up to pull Bernadetta’s body closer. She was wearing a dress, similar to the one she favored in the war, with thick warm tights that weren’t leaving anything to his imagination. He dared to run his hands along her thighs and was relieved that she did not shy away. If anything, she was going at him harder as a result and his body was responding in kind. Hubert’s stomach reflexively clenched up at the idea of the mess this was going to make and how much he did not want to have to deal with it. His poor dick was complaining about his underwear selection as it brushed against the fabric; maybe Ferdinand was onto something when he insisted silk satin boxers were the only way to live. His hands tried desperately to slow her furious assault of his pelvis.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” asked Bernadetta as she pulled back to look at him. She looked extremely apprehensive that he had stopped her.

Hubert tried to steady his breathing. His trousers were uncomfortably tight now, and he wanted nothing more than to have them off completely. “Do you mind if I just loosen my belt a bit,” started Hubert.

Bernadetta had grown pale, “Um.” Her face very much said she did not want him to do that.

“I just, I don’t want to, um,” started Hubert quietly. There wasn’t a very delicate way to put it, “I’d prefer not to make a mess in my pants.”

That reluctance was a rather large damper on his mood, but this was nothing new to him. Ever since he’d had the misfortune of going through puberty as a Vestra, Hubert had had a tense relationship with his body and the things it did. Hubert still keenly remembered the uncertainty and shame of being presented with the evidence of his dirtied pajamas by his father.

“I’m sorry,” whispered a young Hubert as he tried to conceal the burning redness in his face. Was it possible to die from embarrassment? All he knew was what he’d been doing had felt good until he got caught.

“Hubert, I am not angry with you,” reiterated his father calmly. “But we need to discuss what is happening as you become a man.” The Marquis seemed more annoyed than anything.

His father set rules. Accidents happened, Hubert couldn’t control what he did in his sleep, that was understood. However, this was also a practical opportunity to teach more lessons in hiding evidence. If Hubert was going to jerk himself off like the horny little pubescent teen he was, he had to make sure he left no discernible trace. When he was sloppy he had to do his laundry in icy water over and over until his father was satisfied it was clean. If his eyes lingered too long on anyone his father seemed quick to notice and humiliate him. Hubert got good at hiding his feelings and desires to the point where it appeared he had none at all. He already had the advantage of not being good looking, and it was not hard to lean into the unattractive aspects of his personality to keep people from wanting to be close to him. By the time he got to Garreg Mach he was so excellent at this that no one wanted to be around him at all.

The sex talk he got was concise: sex made babies, so don’t ejaculate in a woman unless she’s your wife and you required a child. On the topic of wives, his father merely told him not to get attached to anyone and to expect an arranged marriage sometime in the near future. His father had no interest in whether or not Hubert had sex or who it was with, just that it didn’t result in anything — illegitimate children, blackmail, feelings, etc — and most importantly, that it didn’t interfere with Hubert’s loyalty to House Vestra. His father was far less concerned about Hubert’s body than he was about his son’s mind. That message was also simple: don’t think with you dick. That lesson was much harder in practice, especially as Edelgard came back and grew up. Hubert was hopelessly in love with her, and so he did everything he could to hide that from both her and his father.

Now with Bernadetta on top of him, trying to send him over the edge and succeeding, all he could think about was how icy the water that he had to wash his stained pants and underwear had been and how much it had hurt his hands. The skin had gotten dry and cracked from the unpleasant harsh soap his father made him use, and he remembered that’s when he started always wearing his gloves just to hide how bad his skin looked. Those memories alone were enough to stymie what otherwise was promising to be an excellent evening.

Bernadetta still hadn’t made coherent words to respond to his request to loosen his pants but she also wasn’t leaving his lap. Hubert didn’t want to make her uncomfortable but he was now massively uncomfortable himself. He settled on carefully freeing himself from her embrace. Hubert flexed the muscles in his legs in an attempt to redirect his blood flow. It barely worked but it was enough to stave off what was certainly coming if Bernadetta had been allowed to continue.

Hubert got up and paced as he came down from the pleasure of her kisses. Bernadetta looked extremely embarrassed, “Did, did you not like that?”

Hubert took a deep breath as he thought about the right words to say. “I greatly enjoy being with you.” He swallowed uneasily, “I’m thrilled that you would like to be more intimate, and I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for, but this,” he had to gesture at his rather silly looking pants-tent, “This is very uncomfortable for me, for many reasons.”

Bernadetta had gone red as she smoothed her hair back and bit her lip, “Sorry.” She took a deep breath, “I um, I guess you can loosen your pants.”

“Are you sure?” reiterated Hubert. She nodded and Hubert cautiously undid his belt and unbuttoned his fly. Having to clean just his underwear was a hell of a lot easier than having to launder his wool trousers, especially considering he didn’t have that many pairs of good looking pants. He took a seat back on the couch and did not miss the way that she was staring at his crotch.

Bernadetta took a long look at him and then pulled at his pant legs, taking them off completely. Her eyes were shyly looking him over, “Does it get really messy?”

Hubert wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, “I mean, it can.” Surely when she was with Caspar or Linhardt she had seen them ejaculate.

Bernadetta got up and cautiously removed her tights. She stood before him with her legs exposed to dangerous heights. Hubert tried not to stare although his dick was definitely trying to take a peek, “What are you doing?”

She looked incredibly nervous as she pulled at the bottom of her dress, “What? I don’t want anything to get on my clothes!”

She settled back into his lap, their bodies now only separated by their thin underclothes. He wasn’t sure at all what she wanted. She was teetering between super apprehensive and aggressively forward. Hubert traced over her exposed legs and looked her in the eye, “Shall we resume? Or did you want to take things a bit further?”

“Just more of the same for now,” peeped Bernadetta in a rush. It did not take long for them to get back into a swaying rhythm. His lips were having a field day as they sampled the soft skin of her neck. His hands had come up under the hem of her dress as he held onto her.

Bernadetta slipped her own fingers into her underwear, at which point Hubert’s arousal bounced into a new plane of existence. The noises she made so close to his ear were driving him crazy with the desire to be the one who made her sound like that. She had her eyes closed and was biting her lip and Hubert was entranced by the sight of her face as she started to bring herself to the same desperate place he was currently at.

Hubert felt his body twitching and releasing, and on top of him Bernadetta made a noise of surprise as she scrambled to get off of him. Hubert mumbled some apology as he awkwardly rushed to hide his relaxing penis when he realized it had decided to come free of his boxers. Bernadetta was staring wide eyed at it in a way that made him extra self conscious. It wasn’t like he went around comparing himself to other men but what if she was underwhelmed?

Hubert cleared his throat, “Sorry, that’s all it is.” Shamir was quick to complain about a lot of things, but never his dick, so he figured as far as penises went it must be alright. It’s not like she of all people would have held back if there was something worth mocking about it.

Bernadetta looked up at him in a panic as if only just realizing now that she’d been staring, “Sorry! I uh, um, eeh, this is the first one I’ve seen.” Her face had gotten extremely red as she looked around the room. Her eyes seemed to go everywhere but him.

It was his turn to stare at her. Had she really truly never seen a man’s privates? Not even accidentally? Hubert felt like he had unwillingly glimpsed Caspar’s penis a hundred times in the course of the war, that thing was always hanging out. Oh no, Hubert felt a strange sinking feeling in his stomach, “Are you, are you a virgin?”

Bernadetta’s eyes snapped to meet his as she looked totally mortified. Her voice was very small, “Yes.”

“Oh,” said Hubert in honest surprise.

“You sound disappointed,” said Bernadetta uncertainly. She looked like she might cry and that was the very last thing he wanted to make her do.

Hubert’s posture shot straight up, “No, no, no. I’m not disappointed, I just, I just assumed that with Caspar or Linhardt, you had—”

“No!” said Bernadetta with clear embarrassment. “Why would you think that?”

“When you broke up with Caspar, you were shouting about all the things he did to you, and I, I just thought,” rambled Hubert as he remembered the way Bernadetta had dumped Caspar.

“The things he did to me! He carried me around like luggage even when I asked him to put me down,” stammered Bernadetta. “Not, not sex things! Oh no, is that what everyone thought I meant?” She was covering her face in her hands.

Hubert gently put his hands on her shoulders, “No! It was just my mistake. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.” He felt incredibly bad about putting her on the spot like this, “Do you mind if I just clean myself up, maybe we should talk about, um, boundaries.” The last thing he wanted to do now was to accidentally do something that would make her afraid of being intimate now that he knew she had never even seen a penis prior to this.

When Hubert returned from taking care of his business as quickly as he could, Bernadetta was back in her tights and looking rather glum. He cautiously sat at the opposite end of the couch and tried to look as neutral as possible. Bernadetta had her arms folded and her eyes were downcast. “So stupid, Bernie,” she repeated to herself under her breath.

Hubert’s heart crumbled as he listened to her. He took a deep breath and scooted over towards her. Hubert gently pulled at her arms. She didn’t resist but she wasn’t exactly cooperating as he tried to unfold her and coaxed her into leaning against him. Hubert kept his touch as gentle as he could, but this sort of thing did not come naturally to him. “You’re not stupid,” he whispered as he kissed the side of her head.

“You’re disappointed, you think I’m _unmarriageable_ ,” she whispered with a wavering voice.

He rubbed Bernadetta’s back and tried to think of something to say to improve her mood. Somehow his favored method of sarcasm did not feel right here. He knew that as a girl, the message she had to have grown up with was that sex out of wedlock was one of the worst things she could do. The very last thing he wanted her to think was that he was going to use her and move on. However he also wanted to avoid the ‘m’ word and all the baggage it carried.

She was on the cusp of tears. “Nothing I do is right.”

“Bernadetta, please,” whispered Hubert. He was desperate to bring comfort to her, and he cursed himself for being so poor at it. “I don’t care what you have or haven’t done, I’m only interested in knowing what you want to do with me.” He paused in confusion, “And unmarriageable? Why would I think that?”

Bernadetta wiped her tears on her sleeve, “Because that’s what I am.”

Hubert carefully traced the curve of her jaw to guide her face to look at him, “Well I don’t think that’s true.”

Her eyes were downcast and she was trembling in his arms. “That’s what my father always told me I was. He, he’d tell me if I was _soiled_ no one would ever want to marry me. And here I am with no experience and that’s why you don’t want me—”

“Who said anything about not wanting you?” whispered Hubert. “Don’t mistake me, I would love to make love you, but it’s not as if I spend every moment with you just hoping that you’ll sleep with me.” He took her hand and kissed it, “And fuck your stupid father.”

She swallowed and took a fluttery breath as she tried not to cry. “I was almost engaged once,” she whispered. “And it makes me sick now, but I was just so _happy_ at the time that I had finally pleased my father.” She looked up at Hubert, “And my mother, bless her, freaked out and sent me to school before my father could finalize it.”

“I know,” whispered Hubert, because he’d been conspiring with the Countess and helped Edelgard to arrange Bernadetta’s emergency extraction from her horrible home. He paused wondering the right way to bring up his own engagement related drama, “I was engaged, while we were in school.”

“Really?” asked Bernadetta in quiet confusion. Edelgard had known, but otherwise Hubert had kept that information very private.

Hubert nodded, “And before that I was nearly engaged to multiple young women I purposefully scared off. I got quite good at being unmarriageable myself.” Hubert sighed and stroked the side of Bernadetta’s face gently, “My father was pissed at me. He nearly succeeded in forcing me on the last one, and only his death really freed me from that arrangement.”

Bernadetta’s lip trembled, “Is that why he was sentenced to die?”

Hubert quickly shook his head, “No. He was sentenced for his crimes, but, I didn’t really have much motivation to ask for his pardon.” Hubert didn’t want to dwell on his father’s execution. “So I suppose we are two unmarriageable people. Perhaps we were meant to find each other.”

Berndetta’s mouth twitched into a weak smile as she took his left hand and rubbed his fourth finger, “Did you have a pretty engagement ring?”

Hubert laughed, “No, only a boring piece of paper.” He sighed as he thought about it, “It was, scary. I didn’t want it, at all, and I had to see her all the time at school.” Bernadetta stared at him as if begging for clarification. Hubert figured there was no harm in telling her about the disastrous evening that was Edelgard’s debutante ball. She surprised him by telling him that he wasn’t the only one who had a horrible time that night.


	30. The "M" Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1179, not a great year in the lives of Hubert or Bernadetta

The M word. _Marriage_. Technically Bernadetta was hung up on a “U” word, but marriage was still in there. It was not really a word with happy connotations for Hubert. He felt awful every time Edelgard’s pending marriage came up, which was often, and it was not really a word he ever associated with himself. When he did, it sent him back to Edelgard’s debutante ball and the last nasty one-sided conversation his father had had with him on the topic.

It was late 1179, and Edelgard’s court debut was the hottest invitation of the year. Everyone who was anyone was here. Hubert was nineteen and feeling finally free of most of the pimples and oiliness that had plagued his earlier teen years. He would never go so far as to call himself handsome, but at least he was no longer so awkward and ungainly. He was always an ugly duckling growing up, but instead of turning into a beautiful swan it turned out he was more of an ornery goose: big, dangerous, and territorial. That fit him fine.

He finally felt like a man, not just because he was now taller than his father and finally gaining some mass, no it was because he was planning a fucking war and no one at this stupid party had any idea what was coming for them. Hubert was still Edelgard’s official vassal, even though the Insurrection of the Seven had left that role limited. Instead since her bittersweet return to Enbarr he had become so much more: he was her loyal co-conspirator and the single person she truly trusted. At this party where everyone was dying to rub shoulders with the princess, she was only interested in talking with him. Hubert didn’t aspire to personal power, but right now he felt full to the brim with it.

Yet despite their perceptions of being above it all, Edelgard and Hubert were surrounded by subtle reminders of just how powerless they were at the moment. Edelgard had been forced into a floofy white dress and she was absolutely irate about it. She crossed her arms and scowled at Lord Arundel in the distance as she imitated his voice, “Appearances your highness.”

Hubert tried not to laugh. Edelgard’s impressions were always a little off. “You look fine Lady Edelgard,” he promised. She looked amazing, and Hubert was unable to ignore all the young men (and old men, and women of all ages) staring at her with the same desires he held. He could not betray these feelings though so he deflected into a sarcastic joke, “You will look stunning when they hoist you up onto the matching cake.” She did rather appear like the multi-tiered white cake being brought out.

“Hubert,” hissed Edelgard as she got red, “I do not look like a cake.”

“The whole court wishes for a slice of you,” said Hubert darkly. That was not a joke, he could see the way they stared openly. Whoever married Edelgard would hold considerable power someday. This whole charade of a debut felt like a meat market where Edelgard was the only cut of consequence. Insecure Count Varley was pushing his shy daughter at anyone who would look; boastful Prime Minister von Aegir was turning his nose up at matches for his son; the inexperienced Duke of Gerth was awkwardly trying to explain to Princess Petra that her Brigid dance style was inappropriate for this venue. The Hevrings could not even motivate their son onto the dance floor, and the Bergliez bunch had been banned from it for being too uncouth.

Edelgard scowled out at the nobility, “I’ll take a piece of them instead, in time.” The Flame Emperor and her loyal servant looked out at the party with contempt. Edelgard’s eyes soften as her ailing father finally shuffled into the room. Her voice became more mellow, “Oh, I suppose this is my moment, excuse me Hubert.”

Hubert bowed and watched her hike up the too many layers of skirt so that she could be properly presented as the heir apparent of the Adrestian throne. His father appeared behind him, able to move through the shadows with a silence and lack of detection that only a von Vestra could manage, “Enjoying yourself?”

“What do you think?” asked Hubert. He had learned to finally keep the bite out of his voice when dealing with his sire. He put on a polite but detached affect for his father, for that was how a Vestra ought to sound.

His father smirked with a shared contempt for the self-important nobility around them. The Marquis was content to manipulate and pull the strings of the marionettes from his spot above them all. Hubert was going to slice those strings and watch everyone fall limp and powerless when the Flame Emperor rose from the ashes of the Imperial family.

“Good news, I have made headway on a new marriage contract for you,” said the Marquis.

Hubert tried not to look sick. Another marriage contract? How many would he have to sabotage before the coup? “Excellent. May I at least know her name, or do you plan on keeping this one a secret too?”

His father chuckled, “Well this one doesn’t live in Adrestia so you can’t go scare her off in person before the papers are signed.”

“A foreigner? That is an interesting choice,” probed Hubert carefully. He had perhaps made a terrible impression on his last potential bride in front of her parents. That engagement had ended lightning fast. He wondered if there were records for this sort of thing, and if he’d managed to set one.

“She was born here, into a now defunct family. Her latest step father has been attempting to off load her for years but his asking price is a bit steep for _most_ people considering her pedigree. However, she has a crest, and I’m told she’s very comely,” said his father. He nodded towards Jeritza von Hrym. “The Hrym heir is her half brother.”

Hrym heir, more like the von Bartels Prince of Pain. These days when Jeritza stayed in Enbarr he roomed at the Vestra’s house, staying in the room that would have belonged to Hubert’s brother. Hubert gave his father a measured look but said nothing to the news. His father had honored Edelgard’s request to make Emile into Jeritza as part of that whole nasty cover up. Edelgard was playing a dangerous game with the Marquis; he believed he was going to be part of the coup to restore the Hresvelgs. Little did he know that Hubert would be subsuming his role and instead of ruling with the Flame Emperor, the Marquis would be facing charges of treason with all the others he worked with in the Insurrection.

The Marquis smiled with that dark look he often wore when he found something entertaining, “Stop fretting. She’s not like him, I’m told she wants to be a nun.” His father paused to scoff at the idea. “Think of the possibilities, that brute strength blessed with our family’s intelligence. Both of you are already of suitable age to bear children, so hopefully you’ll be able to knock out a proper crested heir and a spare before I retire.”

Hubert’s stomach flipped and flopped at that thought. This was his father’s work around: Hubert might be an unsatisfactory successor, but if he married and reproduced young, then he might make a worthy heir that his father could properly train in the Vestra ways. Then the cycle could continue despite the hiccup that was Hubert.

“Well, that will have to wait until after I finish attending Lady Edelgard at Garreg Mach,” said Hubert, trying not to sound smug at the kink in his father’s scheme. Those plans were already set and agreed to by the council. At least this poor young woman still had time to get away.

“She will be in the Officer’s Academy with you,” said the Marquis. “She’s a little bit older than a typical student, but we pulled some strings. Her tuition is being covered, and she’s just so _grateful_ to attend school.”

“You really think she’ll still want to marry me after she’s met me?” His father was not a gambler, neither was Hubert, so there had to be some sort of catch. No one wanted to marry Hubert after spending any amount of time with him. Why on earth would his father risk sending them to school for a year together? That was 364 days more than Hubert required to fuck up a marriage contract.

The Marquis no longer struck his son, and definitely not in the open at a party like this. No, his son had gotten far too big to personally beat into submission, the Marquis only needed to learn that lesson once. The Marquis had merely found other means to elicit cooperation and maintain his control now. Just because he could not physically dominate his son did not mean that his minions couldn’t. “Watch yourself Hubert. This is not a game that we are playing, and you are not winning by sinking every match I make. Mercedes von Martritz will be your wife when you are done with school. You will not be in the same classes, and I would like you to keep your interactions to a minimum, lest you try to scare her off. However, this one won’t run away, she can’t. Her tuition is a down payment, if she breaks things off she’ll be on the hook for the costs and she’s well aware she cannot meet them. You don’t have to like each other, you just have to be civil. I’m promised she has the patience of a saint. She’ll put up with you and your moods, but try not to test her too much. If you do, well, your future brother-in-law might have something to say since he’ll be there too. Remember that he works for me.”

His father had no inhibitions in turning him over to the Death Knight when Hubert stepped out of line. Hubert had sparred with Jeritza a handful of times now and those matches had always ended with him bloody and begging for it to be over. Jeritza’s cold mocking rang in his ears, “ _So weak_.”

Hubert fell into the safety of sarcasm instead. “Family dinners are sure to be entertaining,” said Hubert dryly.

“That’s the spirit,” smirked his father as he clapped his son on the back before moving on to speak to some other pawns. Hubert suppressed the urge to vomit as he left the grand ballroom. Hubert made his way outside onto a desolate balcony. The night was cool and sharp against his senses as he took a few deep breaths to ground himself once more. There was a way out of this, there was always a way out, he just had to find it.

He put a hand on the cold marble of the balcony’s rail and focused on feeling the chill through his gloves. _Be as cold as the marble, don’t let him know he’s under your skin_.

“Are you thinking of jumping and running off into the night?”

The voice of the woman spying on him honestly took Hubert by surprise. His hand was on the hilt of his rapier too fast, he was on edge. The noble woman looked at his sword with a bored curiosity of someone who did not want to be at this party but could not leave. Hubert was embarrassed by his over reaction as he bowed, “Forgive me, you startled me.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you were trying to make a run for it,” she teased as she pulled her shawl closer against the cold of the night. “You could probably do it too, you’re a man.”

“I rather feel like a boy at the moment,” whispered Hubert as his heart stopped racing. He’d run away once, and failed. Hubert was done with running. He bowed again, this time as a means of introduction, “Hubert von Vestra.”

The woman forced a rather half hearted curtsy, “Countess von Varley.”

Varley, ah. Hubert straightened his posture in the presence of this enemy. He wondered how she was going to feel when the revolution came. “I was not intending on jumping, I merely needed some air.”

The Countess leaned on the railing and looked out at the moonlit gardens. It was winter and they were merely collections of dead looking plants, a perfect metaphor for Adrestia. “It is suffocating in there.”

Perhaps this was not an enemy, perhaps this was a potential kindred spirit. “I am surprised you are not attending your husband.”

Her shoulders tensed and she spun around to look at him, “He’ll notice I’m gone eventually. He’ll express his feelings about that later, but for now, he’s probably not even aware of my absence.” Her eyes met Hubert’s and held his stare. He knew that look: someone trapped in a social prison, someone who had learned quick to hide their feelings. Someone like him.

Hubert offered his arm to the Countess, “I came outside to feel something, to remind myself I still can. Now I find myself left cold. Shall we return to the party Countess?”

She accepted, and Hubert spent the rest of the evening sowing the seeds of sedition while trying to think of a way out of his marriage arrangement. The solution that he kept circling back to was _permanent_ but was going to be necessary if Edelgard was going to assume control of all the resources she needed. The coup was coming, though it could not come soon enough for Hubert.

Hubert had spoken with Mercedes about this all of one time at school. She was exactly as his father described: comely and crested with the patience of a saint. In a world where Hubert was not plotting the demise of the church Mercedes found so compelling, he might have actually looked forward to being arranged to marry her. She delighted in creepy ghost stories, hinting that perhaps they shared a sense of morbid humor they could have actually bonded over. However, Hubert’s heart and soul belonged to Edelgard in full. He convinced himself there was no room for anyone else.

He had suggested to Mercedes that their marriage contract had been made by his father, and if something were to happen to the Marquis, well then any promised exchanges would be null and void in Hubert’s eyes. Mercedes had understood perfectly and asked politely after his father’s health. Hubert didn’t smile as he informed her that the Marquis seemed healthy, but that looks were deceiving and maybe he might die at any time. As far as Mercedes should be concerned, her tuition had already been paid and the only thing Hubert wished of her was to look the other way if something bad did befall his father.

***

Bernadetta’s corset was too tight as she stood and swayed at the party. As usual she had not been permitted food today, even as the cake was served to the eager guests at this stupid ball. She could not wait for this to be over, then the stupid dress could come off and she could finally eat something. Her mother had slipped her a snack earlier to munch on when her father was distracted but Bernie almost wished she hadn’t eaten it. She felt like she was on the brink of throwing up with the anxiety that her father was going to see a stray crumb, or smell the morsel upon her breath. She kept her mouth firmly shut and hoped her treason was not revealed.

“Come Bernadetta, what do you say?” Her father pushed at her back as he shoved her towards the latest dance partner.

“It would be my pleasure to accept this dance,” smiled Bernadetta, although her eyes had trouble coming up to meet those of the tall stranger. He was frightening and she could not show it, because her father was just as frightening right behind her. There was no place to run, so Bernadetta walked calmly onto the dance floor hand in hand with Jeritza von Hrym.

As he spun her mechanically with a similar level of enthusiasm Bernadetta could see her father talking with another scary looking man. His hair was long and black and he had a severe manner about him that sent her stomach into knots. His harsh stare snapped to return her own and Bernadetta nearly jumped.

Her dance partner followed her looks, “That is the Marquis von Vestra.”

“He looks important,” managed Bernadetta as she spun at the mercy of her partner.

“He is,” said Jeritza in a low monotone. “He is my sponsor here in Enbarr.”

She looked up at him quickly in confusion. A strange smile crossed Jeritza’s lips, “I no longer have family here.”

“Oh,” said Bernie, unsure what to read from that. Small talk had never been her forte despite her father’s constant criticism.

Jeritza’s eyes flashed down at her again, “They mean to try and marry us.”

Bernie did not have words for that as she missed a step and trampled Jeritza’s big scary foot, “I’m so sorry.”

“About which part?” asked Jeritza humorlessly. He kept spinning her even as Bernie started to feel a building sickness in her throat. Acid was creeping up no matter how hard she willed it to stay down.

Throwing up on his fancy shoes was an effective means of escape from the entire debutante ball for the princess. Her father, red faced and embarrassed, forced her mother to take her back to their accommodations in the city, but not before he yelled at Bernadetta for being the massive disappointment that she was.

Her mother told her it was a good thing that she’d thrown up on Jeritza, because he didn’t seem like a suitable match. However, Jeritza was rather unperturbed by messes and Bernadetta’s father was delighted to report that things were moving forward on that front.

When Bernie arrived at Garreg Mach only a few months later, Jeritza was the combat instructor. Bernie was never seen at the training grounds, where Jeritza spent nearly all of his time. She really didn’t start venturing out of her room until after he’d left campus when his identity was blown.

Apparently she had dodged having to marry the DEATH KNIGHT just before school began. Bernie was pretty sure that was the marriage rock bottom. The plan was to have her kept in the Hrym territory where her one job would be to produce crested heirs. She would be but the first of many women tasked with breeding an army of over powered warriors bound by blood magic to the Agarthans, who offered a pretty penny to her father for exclusive rights to Bernadetta’s cunt.

Thinking of it now was enough to send her vomiting. Which she did, right onto Hubert’s lap, as she finished describing her night at Edelgard’s debut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So, I wrote this a little bit ago, and afterward contemplated the question of what would a Hubert/Mercedes, Bernadetta/Jeritza world look like. The only vaguely happy scenario I came up with was one in which it was truly a Mercedes/Bernie and Hubert/Jeritza situation, with the arranged pairings as a front for the real relationships.
> 
> Bernie/the Death Knight is maybe the worst ship, in my opinion. And yet I kept thinking about it. Eventually I wrote the start of a gothic horror story of arranged marriages and haunted houses. I had no plans for any other fics following this, and then I hooked myself on an 19th century occultist AU in which Mercedes, Hubert and Bernadetta find themselves trying to escape Jeritza's house of horrors...I may post the first chapter of that soon (because I have no self control when something's 'ready' to post), however, I will be finishing this story before writing/researching anything more for that -- I'm just excited to dive into something darker after all this sweet fluff. :D


	31. Fathers in Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert flexes his stain removal muscles, Ferdinand comes out to his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like gore...stop reading when you get to Bernie's dad.

This was not the first time someone had vomited all over Hubert, and he had a suspicion it would not be the last. Bernadetta looked at her dinner — spaghetti and meatballs in a generous helping of red sauce — all over Hubert and paled. She put a steadying hand over her stomach and took a few deep breaths. It seemed like they were in the clear until Hubert watched in horror as Bernadetta sprung up with a hand over her mouth and made it three valiant steps in the direction of the bathroom before covering herself in what was left of her stomach contents.

Hubert carefully got up and marched her to the bathroom. “Do you think there’s any more in there?”

“No,” whispered Bernadetta with a sniffle.

“This is almost impressive,” sighed Hubert as he wet a wash cloth to get her chin clean first. “But you have nothing on the great carnival of 1167.”

“What?” asked Bernadetta weakly as he offered her some mint flavored mouthwash.

Hubert sighed somberly, “I suggested Lady Edelgard might not want to eat so many sweets, especially not before we went upon the tilt-a-whirl. I smelled like cotton candy for weeks.”

“The _Emperor_ threw up on you?” Bernadetta teetered on disbelief.

If she only knew. “I have lost count of the number of times Edelgard has vomited on me, both as a child and as an adult. Dorothea has vomited on me, although I accidentally got her back for that, Caspar has multiple times, um, let’s see, I’ve watched Ferdinand vomit on his poor horse, Petra vomited the first time she went up on a wyvern and it rained down on us poor bastards beneath her.”

“Gross,” said Bernadetta as she went to tuck her hair back, only to find it a little wet with hunks of spaghetti in it. “Oh no, I need a bath or maybe just a burial, please.”

“You are in a state,” sighed Hubert as he looked at the front of her dress.

“So are you,” said Bernadetta with shame and Hubert looked down to confirm that yes, there was a trail of red and meat chunks and small bits of foamy pasta, yuck, from sternum to pubis.

Hubert drew in a sharp breath as he looked back at Bernadetta, “Well, if you’re going to make a mess in front of anyone, it might as well be the Minister of the Imperial Household, stain removal comes with the territory.” He put his hands on his hips and surveyed her, “I can try to sneak you through the palace back to your rooms for a bath, or I can call for some water to be brought here and give you some clothes to change into while we work on this laundry situation together.”

“Um, I think I need help with the laundry,” whispered Bernadetta as she studied the extent of the mess on her dress.

“May I assist you,” asked Hubert uncertainly, “In undressing?”

Bernadetta nodded timidly and Hubert quietly undid her dress and carefully lifted it off of her to lay it out for cleaning. She trembled in just her underclothes, and Hubert averted his eyes as he quickly shed his own shirt and pants. He took her hand and led her back to his wardrobe. Before she could ask too many questions or feel too self conscious he was sending a much too large undershirt over her head. “It’s like a dress on you,” he jested. It was even longer than her actual dress had been. He rolled up some pant legs and helped her to step into some plain pajama bottoms that he had to pull the drawstring almost all the way out just to keep them on her hips. If things were not so serious in the moments leading up to the vomit episode, Hubert would have told her how adorable she looked drowning in his clothes.

“Perfect! You’ll start a new fashion trend,” promised Hubert as he put on his own pair of pajama pants. He rang for some water to be brought up in several basins and they waited while looking at the carnage on their clothes.

Bernadetta shyly hid as the palace servants brought in the water, and only emerged when she and Hubert were alone. He helped her work the mess from her hair, and wrapped her head up in a towel.

Hubert sighed and looked at the tub. He’d requested cold water for a reason. “Never use hot water on a fresh blood stain,” said Hubert, quoting his father’s sage wisdom. “Let’s see, use alcohol and prayer to remove ink stains, and always let mud or shit dry before attempting to clean it or you’ll smear it all about.” He sighed and hoped that the dyes in Bernadetta’s clothes would not run as he dunked her dress and tights into the bath. “And as for stomach acid and spaghetti I suppose a good soaking cannot hurt.” He looked at Bernadetta in his pajamas, “Shall we, um, cuddle?”

She nodded heartily and looked in the direction of his couch, “M-maybe not there.”

Hubert spied a trace of the incident and set to work cleaning it. He looked in the direction of his bedroom and wished he had more pillows. He’d have to get some more if this cuddling thing was to become regular. Bernadetta silently nodded as she went in and settled into his bed. When Hubert was finished cleaning the couch he settled in behind her and held her against him.

“I can’t believe my father offered me up to marry Jeritza,” whispered Bernadetta as she curled into a tight ball.

Hubert could, but Hubert could believe a lot of horrible things about human nature. Bernadetta whimpered, “How soiled do you have to be for your best match to be the death knight?”

“The only person that has ever soiled you is your father with how he treated you,” said Hubert as he picked up one of her arms and kissed her on the hand. He continued to kiss onto her wrists.

She started to giggle as he reached her elbow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m kissing you clean,” he whispered as he moved up to the sleeve. “ I’m very good at stain removal as clearly demonstrated. I think for this sort of mess, I will kiss every square inch of you if you’ll allow me to.”

“Every square inch?” asked Bernadetta dubiously as she rolled towards him.

Hubert gave a passing look at her feet, “I might rush through some stretches.” His hand traced along her leg, “And I may linger in others for too long, but yes, all of you. Maybe not all at once, but perhaps if you’ll let me keep courting you I’ll get to every bit.” Hubert grew serious, “For every bad thing your father did or said to you, I want to do something nice in its place.” He looked down at her, “I want to make you feel as good about yourself as I feel about you.”

She was staring up at him, and he felt her fingers coming up to weave through his chest hairs. It felt good to have her touching him and he could only hope that she felt the same surge of affection when he touched her. He waited until she had been lulled into sleep to go and work on cleaning the clothes. It was slow work, gently scrubbing about, but eventually he could no longer see the stains. He knew that Bernadetta would take a long time to be cleaned of her father, and he was sure there would always be some traces left behind, but Hubert was going to do all he could to help her see herself sparkle like the gold she was.

***

Ferdinand didn’t want Lorenz to go home. Sylvain had rushed to leave Enbarr with the assurances that the Imperial army would not mobilize as long as there was no bloodshed in their former territories. The Alliance nobles, in contrast, were taking their time to enjoy their visit in full but its end was in sight. They wouldn’t be back again until the wedding, and that was just too long to be without Lorenz.

“Are you sure you cannot find some reason to stay?” asked Ferdinand as his lips traced down Lorenz’s slim frame. “What if there’s another diplomatic incident?”

Lorenz’s fingers laced their way through Ferdinand’s hair, “I’m sure you can handle it, you’re an excellent Prime Minister.”

“Can’t you ask to be named ambassador, or something?” begged Ferdinand as his line of kisses reached its destination.

“Oh Ferdie,” sighed Lorenz, in a mix of exasperation at Ferdinand’s requests and the sensation of his mouth around Lorenz’s cock. “I have a great reason to stay, but he is rather hung up on being found out and the longer I linger, the more likely that becomes.”

Ferdinand shut his eyes and focused on making Lorenz see the light. Perhaps if he could just move his tongue in the right way, Lorenz would have no choice but to demand that Claude give him an assignment in Enbarr. As Ferdinand came up for some air he switched to using his hands, “What if I was not as um, worried about people knowing? Would you consider it then?”

Lorenz bit his lip and let out a groan as Ferdinand hit a good balance of grip and speed, “What are you proposing? We go to a ball together with matching corsages?”

“Don’t be sarcastic,” warned Ferdinand. He put up with enough of that from Hubert at work, he didn’t need it in his bedroom as well. “I am trying to tell you that the idea of you leaving is bringing me pain, and I am searching for relief.”

“I am not trying to hurt you Ferdinand,” whispered Lorenz.

“I know, I think you might actually be trying to love me,” whispered Ferdinand as he went back in with his mouth. He focused on the head of Lorenz’s cock and tried to make him squirm at the sensation. Ferdinand sucked gently as he pulled his lips up and off of Lorenz, “And I would like to be able to express that love back.”

Lorenz sat up and dabbed his thumb at the trail of slobber Ferdinand had on his chin, “This is the most inelegant declaration of love I have ever received.”

Ferdinand smiled weakly, “I am afraid this is the most honest declaration of love I have ever given.” He wiped his mouth to get it dry before he kissed at Lorenz’s own mouth, “It is a love I feel in my bones, a love that demands that I shout it from the bell tower for all of Enbarr, Adrestia, of Fodlan in whole, to hear.”

“And people call me dramatic,” smiled Lorenz as his own hands found their way to Ferdinand’s wanting dick.

“You are, but I am too,” whispered Ferdinand as he felt a thrill go through him at his lover’s touch.

“Let us start smaller than all of Fodlan,” suggested Lorenz. “Let us just see if you can tell your family.” If it meant keeping Lorenz with him, Ferdinand would gladly tell anyone who would listen.

They would start with his father. Ferdinand was sweating profusely even though early spring was pleasant and not hot at all. He felt like he’d be the Puddle Minister if they didn’t get this business over with.

The Ex-prime minister gave Lorenz a measured glare as he sipped his tea. He took a deep breath and Ferdinand felt himself on the edge of his seat. His father cleared his throat, “You’re the rose bush boy.”

Lorenz flushed, “Indeed.”

The Ex-prime minister narrowed his gaze, “What makes you think you’re good enough for my Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand almost fell out of his chair. He was trying to recover from his shock when his father continued, “You deserve a prince son! Nothing less. This man is only a Count!”

“This is, this is not the reaction I expected,” said Ferdinand weakly as he took Lorenz’s hand in front of his father. “I do not desire a prince, I desire Lorenz.”

The former Prime Minister sighed heavily, “I really think you could aim higher, look at you! You’re Prime Minister. You’re a von Aegir!”

Lorenz flared his nostrils, “I assure you I am one of the finest nobles in all of Fodlan, and unlike any princes, I am in love with your son.”

Ferdinand felt his blush overtake him, “And I am in love with him!”

The former head of state set down his tea cup, “Well, then. I have only one request.” Ferdinand braced himself as his father cleared his throat, “If you’re joining your lives in any formal sense, do not take his name Ferdinand! You are and always will be a von Aegir, never a Gloucester. That is all I ask.”

“What if we hyphenate?” asked Lorenz as he and his potential father-in-law got into a terse negotiation. Ferdinand was beside himself that this was not ending in an explosion like he’d feared.

Finally when all was said and done Lorenz gave Ferdinand some privacy with his father. “I will not pretend to understand how you have so quickly come to this acceptance,” admitted Ferdinand.

His father sighed and gestured at his cell, “Ferdinand, this is the inheritance I have left you. Political ruin and shame. I fully expected you to fall with me when my house of cards came down, but you, you rose up and kept our family name in high standing. I am so impressed with what you have managed to achieve in such a short time.” He looked plainly at his son, “I once prided myself on how much I could get away with, how much power I could amass, and there was little I would not do in pursuit of it. However, nearly being executed and then spending the last six years in prison with no end in sight has a way of forcing one to consider how they got to be in such a place.”

Ferdinand’s father gestured to his tiny window and its excellent view, “This is what my scheming has gotten me, and I am grateful for it because I could have gotten what von Vestra got. His son was perfectly content to watch him die, while you pleaded for me to be spared. You love me, even knowing what I am and what I was, and so, the very least I can do is love you back as you are.”

Ferdinand figured if he could convince his father of all people to accept him for who he was, convincing the rest of the world couldn’t be that much more scary. Especially with Lorenz by his side to fill him with courage.

***

Sitting across from the former Count von Varley in the dark and damp prison cell was pricking at the worst parts of Hubert’s nature. He’d had an itch for dealing retribution for so many years after watching Edelgard suffer at the hands of so many, and at the moment, von Varley was begging for his judgment.

“Have you come to stare at me in silence or do you have something to say?” asked von Varley as he glared at Hubert.

Hubert cleared his throat, “Is this the proper way to speak to your only visitor ever?”

He was met with an unrepentant scoff. Hubert shut his eyes as he tried to will himself not to imagine the things that Bernadetta had described to him in the dark as he held her. The hair ripping, the chair. The creatures, the lies. The fear. The anxiety. All the things she hated about herself were all courtesy of her evil father.

Killing von Varley would be easy. Killing him would be quick. Killing him would be _unsatisfying_. Making him suffer like he had made his daughter suffer, well, that was more in line with Hubert’s admittedly twisted values.

There were things that Hubert would never speak to Bernadetta about. He would never describe finding her battered mother as they came to arrest her father. He would never tell her the price the Agarthans had offered for her, the amount of gold her father set her worth at. He would never speak of visiting her sire now. She did not need such horrors on her conscience.

It was safe to say no one else was ever going to come visit Mr. von Varley. And Hubert planned to leave him with very little to say if anyone did.

Hubert sucked in a breath and rose from his chair to come and stand behind the awful piece of filth before him. Hubert ran his fingers through von Varley’s hair and then pulled as hard as he could to wrench the man’s head back so that he could whisper in his ear, “I know about Silence.”

Mr. von Varley jerked away as Hubert laughed. Hubert snapped his fingers and the nearest guard was quick to come and restrain the prisoner with a belt. Hubert paused to pull on it to make sure it was as tight as it could go, “This is what she must have felt when you did this to her. How does it feel Varley?”

“You’re insane,” hissed von Varley as he struggled.

“You have no idea,” whispered Hubert as he sat now on the table in front of the prisoner to stare down at him. He dug in his pockets and produced his folding razor. He opened and closed it waiting and wondering if von Varley would speak. It seemed Hubert finally had his attention, “You told her monsters would come to get her if she moved, if she made a sound.” Hubert brought his face uncomfortably close to von Varley’s, “But you were the only monster in her life.”

He leapt from the table and pulled up his bag of horrors. He laid out his equipment for von Varley to see: the razor, a pair of forceps, and a speculum. Hubert smirked as he teased von Varley with a little snipping motion of the forceps.

“You tried to sell her as a prized breeder,” said Hubert as he stared at von Varley. “You sold her without a second thought to who you were offering her to because the price and the timing were favorable.”

“Untie me, and get out of here, this visit is through,” roared von Varley with rage. The guards already knew what was coming, and they took their leave rather than watch.

Hubert burst out in a laugh. “Tsk tsk, to play Silence you have to be quiet or a monster will get you.” He sounded as deranged as he felt when he considered this man and what he’d done to Bernadetta. Hubert was not going to deny the darkness inside him, because everything had a utility, including his demons.

“Get out of here Vestra,” began von Varley in annoyance. However, there was also a palpable fear to his words as he watched the guards getting further away.

“No,” said Hubert as he picked up the speculum and jammed it into von Varley's mouth. He twisted the gears of the device so that it would open the vile man’s mouth wide. He grabbed his forceps and pinched von Varley’s tongue and pulled so that it was out as far as it could reasonably go. “Little did you know that there are other monsters in this world, and one of them has fallen in love with your daughter. One of them has come to make you pay up for her lifetime of misery.”

The man flinched at that, but made a noise of intense pain because the forceps did not budge and only pulled his tongue more. Hubert got very close to von Varley’s ear and repressed his own revulsion at being so near to such a disgusting man, “You would have let her be raped, over and over, and you’d have never given it a second thought.”

Hubert pulled back and stared into von Varley’s frightened eyes. For a split second it reminded him of how scared Bernadetta looked sometimes, and Hubert felt satisfied that someone was finally putting some real fear into von Varley. “So please, think about it as you sit in your cell for the rest of your days,” ordered Hubert. He opened his razor up using his teeth, which was about the most unsanitary means one could use to accomplish such a task, and set to cutting von Varley’s tongue off. “Scream for me,” laughed Hubert darkly as he did it. “Scream your last and prepare to permanently play a game of Silence by yourself for the rest of your days.”

The guards would not look at Hubert after it was done and that was understandable. He preferred torture to have a purpose, but for this excuse for a man, Hubert made an exception. Blood poured down von Varley’s chin as Hubert retrieved his speculum. “I hope it does not get infected,” said Hubert with exaggerated concern as he admired the chunk of tongue in his forceps. “It would surely be a shame for you to lose any more tissue, but tongues are deceptively large and there’s still more to take if necessary.”

Most people would sleep poorly after seeing and hearing such a thing. Most people would be kept awake by having performed such a grizzly mutilation. Hubert was used to doing dirty work though, and he slept even better than usual that night with Bernadetta snuggled safely in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I told your father that I am in love with you," said Hubert.  
> "What did he say?" asked Bernie in a panic.  
> "Nothing, he was speechless," shrugged Hubert.


	32. Pre-wedding Jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding barrels towards Enbarr at an unforgiving pace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sign reads: Exit towards cliffs of gore and grossness, *Car screeching noises…throws open passenger side door* “READER! Quick get back in!” *revs engine*, “We’ve gotta get back to the romance and the comedy, go go go!” *Makes questionable merge back onto the Highway of Happy Endings*

The changes were small at first. A new pillow here, a spare tooth brush there. Dinner cooked together once a week, then twice. Then matching embroidered flowers made side by side (although Bernie finished hers much faster). There were kisses in new places — Hubert wasn’t joking when he threatened to get every inch of her — and maybe what was most thrilling to Bernie was the desire to do the same to him. Yet the wedding was fast approaching and Bernie was struck with a new conundrum, what was going to happen when her job in Enbarr was done?

She didn’t really have time to think about it though as the wedding rolled ever closer and the dress took over her life. The insides looked great! Bias bound seams neatly finished and pressed greeted her as the tailors returned the garment, late. Now to attach two hundred delicately embroidered pastel flowers, no problem! However as her calendar inched closer to Garland Moon, Bernie was beginning to feel the panic of her deadline.

Hubert was not a great source of relief on this front. He was consumed with opening and sorting almost a thousand RSVP cards and tasked with creating a seating chart. In theory this was easy but in practice there were waring factions to think about (Claude’s extended family tended to settle dinner table disagreements on the field of battle), and practical matters like would it be welcomed or rude to sit the Archbishop and her very fresh newborn near an exit in case the baby started crying?

Then there were the accommodations. Bernie could not miss the workmen walking through the guest wing of the palace and the small army of maids and butlers running about opening up long closed rooms. There were cobwebs to clean, dust to dismiss, and linens to lay out. At least Bernie would not have to give up her room, and she wasn’t going to ever make the mistake of leaving her writing in the library again. Hubert had bought her a nice lock box she could hide under her bed for anything she didn’t want anyone to see, including him. He also got her a delicate gold chain to keep the ornate key close, because by his own admission he was terrible at picking out jewelry and this was as good as it was going to get.

Bernie didn’t mind. She loved accessories, but this one was special and almost like a secret. She’d pull the key out to play with it as she tried to arrange the embroidered flowers for the thousandth time, and she’d tuck it away so no one could ask her what it opened since saying, “My erotica chest,” didn’t feel like a valid option. She eventually settled on telling any curious observers it was the key to her heart which often elicited an _awww_.

She did feel like Hubert had managed to find some lock she didn’t realize was keeping her closed up. A couple of handsome keys, Caspar and Linhardt, had tried to fit her but didn’t quite work as they were. Hubert, who was probably more of a plain skeleton key than a fancy one, had recognized that he wasn’t going to fit at first pass. Instead he’d become more of a locksmith, and was determined to figure out what he needed to change to get her to open up. Once he had tried joking, then he had tried not laughing or grinning, then he had clung to a flower, and none of these had really worked. However, Hubert was persistent, and Bernie appreciated that. A lot of people in her life had written her off as the girl stuck in her room, and she was so incredibly grateful to the Huberts, the Byleths, the Edelgards, the Dorotheas and the rest that didn’t give up on her when she screamed and ran away.

***

Dorothea arrived with a week to go. Even though Bernie protested that she had the dress to work on, Dorothea still drug her into downtown Enbarr to have tea and snacks at some new hot place. “You need a break!” insisted Dorothea as she ordered for them. “Look at your poor fingers!”

They were a little beat up. Bernadetta had been appliqueing while sleep deprived and had drawn a little more blood than usual. Dorothea regaled her with tales of all the places she’d been while on tour with the opera. Bernie was pleased to listen and not be put on the spot about her own life. However, Dorothea was a good friend who asked about others, “And what’s new with you, did Hubie ever work up the courage to take you on a date?”

He had done a bit more than that. They’d been courting for six months, an anniversary that Bernadetta commemorated with a special embroidered flower with metallic threads. “Um yeah we’ve been on some dates,” said Bernie vaguely.

“Oh?” said Dorothea with a mischievous look. “And? How is he in bed?”

Soft, cuddly, fuzzy…just like her teddy bear? Bernadetta got red, “Excuse me! I’m not talking about that here.”

“Oh so, bad then,” whispered Dorothea.

“No, Dorothea! It’s just, we, we haven’t,” started Bernie.

Dorothea looked relieved that Bernie wasn’t suffering bad sex, “ _Oh_.”

“I mean, I know he wants to, and I think I do too,” said Bernie in a soft nervous whisper. This was the first time she was saying it out loud. Yes, she occasionally fell asleep in Hubert’s bed, and she had gotten used to seeing his penis and she had even touched it on purpose. She had reached the point where she was letting his hands up into her shirt but she had never even taken her underwear off while with him. It seemed like a big scary hurdle to get to.

She kind of wished she had just gotten sex over with a few months ago before she started worrying about how they were going to possibly stay in a relationship after the wedding was done and Bernie no longer had any business in Enbarr. The last thing she wanted was to have sex, realize it was as great as everyone seemed to think, and then go home alone. Yet somehow that seemed way worse than going home a virgin! “We’ve been moving really slow, but, I-I kind of want to soon.” It was now or never Bernie!

“Awww, Bern, that’s so special,” said Dorothea as she leaned her face against her hands. She then got excited as if she’d had a brilliant idea, “You should come with me to my waxing appointment!”

“Wha-” started Bernie.

“I’m going there right after this, I’m sure they can fit you in!” Bernadetta nodded her head in horror. What the hell head! Why was she nodding yes? NOOO.

Dorothea managed to talk her into a very basic landscaping job and held her hand as the beautician looked at a part of Bernie that no one had ever seen. “How did you convince me to do this?” Bernie had Dorothea’s hand in a death grip.

“I didn’t even have to try that hard,” teased Dorothea. “I think you just want to get this done so you have an excuse to show it off to Hubie.” She had the gall to wink.

“Oh my goddess,” whispered Bernadetta as she squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation. Damn Dorothea was good at reading people. The wax strip came off and Bernie let out an undignified squeak. Dorothea cackled as tears brimmed in Bernie’s eyes, “Don’t laugh!” Dorothea didn’t laugh for long. She was getting a much more extensive hair removal and while she didn’t yelp or eep, she definitely scream-sang as her own hairs were ripped free.

“What are you going to wear?” asked Dorothea excitedly as they walked down the high street on their way back to the palace.

“Uh to the wedding?” Bernie had picked out a smart violet number that showed off how good her arms looked after years of archery.

“No, in the bedroom,” said Dorothea as she squeezed Bernadetta’s arm.

Was the point not to wear nothing? “I, uh,” started Bernie uncertainly as Dorothea took a hard left towards a salacious looking lingerie store.

***

Hilda thoughtfully timed her arrival to Enbarr with the von Bergliez’s massive shipment of flowers grown on their lands. She insisted it was pure coincidence that she happened to get there right when Caspar did. However, Hubert was not one to allow idle hands, and quickly conscripted her to help him with all the damn centerpieces.

“Hubie, can’t we just drop the flowers in a vase and then go?” whined Hilda as her finger caught yet another thorn.

Hubert carefully snipped a stem and gave her a warning look, “We have 70 tables to decorate in three days Hilda. We have finished four centerpieces. Stop talking and get snipping.” Hubert was feeling extra grumpy. He was actively avoiding Bernadetta so that he didn’t accidentally growl or frown at her.

He couldn’t help himself but wear a permanent grimace. He was so stressed right now. Hubert was drinking five whole pots of coffee a day just to keep up his energy so he could race to put out whatever fires cropped up. Every single thing that happened was a crisis. Claude had brought last minute third cousins who hadn’t been on the invite list. Enbarr was running low on key ingredients because the caterers were sucking up too many resources. Worst of all, Edelgard was clearly upset and he didn’t know how to help her. Hubert felt like this wedding was a battle gripping the city and he was the last line of defense.

Hilda sighed with exasperation as she finished her first centerpiece. Hubert was wrapping up his fifth. “Hilda. I know you hate work. But please, will you hurry up and help faster so I don’t lose my mind? If I go crazy, I will take you down with me.”

Hilda gulped and picked up some speed, “You could always cheer me on, that would help.”

Begrudgingly Hubert began to chant, “Hilda, Hilda,” under his breath as he moved onto another centerpiece.

***

The last flower was finally fixed to the dress. Bernie took a deep breath and admired her work. This was truly a wedding dress fit for an Emperor. It was on it’s surface a simple sweetheart neckline dress with a long train. Bernie had then made sleeves and a high neck out of a gossamer like tulle to pay homage to Edelgard’s love of covering up, and it was this delicate robe like addition that all the flowers flowed. They clustered at the wrists, and gathered at the hem with sprinkles of embroidered petals creeping up the arms and cascading down the skirt. It was finished off with a long ivory ribbon, also decorated in flowers, that served as a belt.

If Bernie didn’t know any better, she’d almost want it to be her wedding dress, but there was no way in hell she was ever making another dress like this again. If she never saw another embroidered flower, well, she supposed she’d be a little sad because she liked making them, but no she was taking a break! She was going to explore other cool things to make out of thread: spiders, bees, beetles, birds, rabbits, a hedgehog! Literally anything other than plants. Hubert had confessed to her that his favorite animal was a pegusus, maybe that was to be her next project. Or maybe she’d do crochet, or knitting, or some other craft than garment making and embroidery.

Edelgard covered her mouth as she saw it, “Oh Bernadetta, it’s so beautiful!”

Bernie wasn’t going to say no to praise from the Emperor. “T-thanks! But please, try it on so I know if I have to fix anything because I really want it to be done!”

Bernie helped Edelgard get into the fancy beautiful dress and stood behind her as the Emperor stared at herself in the mirror. Edelgard looked like she was an ethereal princess who had stepped from the pages of a fairy tale and Bernie had just enough self control not to literally pat herself on the back. The Emperor stared at herself and then started to cry.

These were not, “ _Oh Bernie, it’s so beautiful_ ” tears. They were not even, “ _Oh I’m kind of nervous about getting married tears_.” They were just sad giant droplets that said, “ _Please get me out of this dress before I ruin it with all this salt_.”

“W-what’s wrong?!” Bernadetta found herself hugging the emperor who was now literally wetting her shoulder with sobs.

Edelgard’s voice was uncharacteristically small and scared, “I don’t want to get married.”

For a split second Bernie pictured herself bravely declaring, “Then you don’t have to!” She’d then steal the Emperor and save her from a wedding she never wanted. However, Bernie would miss Hubert, and suspected that he would probably not appreciate her kidnapping the head of Adrestia.

Instead what Bernie managed was a few sputtering ‘ums’ before Edelgard apologized. The Emperor started to pull off the dress and Bernie rushed to help her friend. “I, I am sorry Bernadetta, this is not an appropriate reaction. Your work is wonderful, I’m just feeling overwhelmed.”

“It’s okay Edelgard,” whispered Bernadetta as she helped the Emperor step out of the dress. “Marriage is scary.” She bit her lip, “M-maybe you and Claude should discuss this. Maybe you don’t have to get married.”

Edelgard sniffled as she got back into her normal clothes, “The wedding is in two days. Many of the guests are already here.”

“So?” demanded Bernadetta. “They’ll um, they’ll understand! Plus we could still have a big party? That might make the news easier to take!”

Edelgard giggled at the suggestion through her tears. “Unfortunately these were the terms of my surrender.”

“Treaties, smeaties,” tried Bernie bravely. “That was a year and half ago! Maybe people are willing to talk about some new terms? I mean, you have all the most important people in Fodlan here! Maybe they’ll be okay if you just change a few things?”

This led to an emergency meeting of all the most important people in the Alliance and Empire. Hilda and Hubert, with bandages on their fingers and scowls on both their faces, had literally just finished all the floral arrangements. Lorenz was fresh off of going through the set list with the band. Claude, after a lecture from his grandmother, had shaved the awful mustache he was trying out. Ferdinand was quietly suggesting to his assistant to put a hold on finding 500 live doves to release.

Bernie squeezed Edelgard’s hand and did not envy this scary task the Emperor faced. Edelgard took a deep breath and then wore the face she had when declaring war on Seiros, “I do not wish to be married.”

There was a collective silence, followed by frantic arguing. Bernie looked around in a panic. Hubert was holding his face in silence. Hilda was crying. Claude and Lorenz were arguing, and Ferdinand was attempting to argue with Edelgard. “Hey,” said Bernie, gathering no attention. “HEY!” Everyone looked at her. “Marrying someone should be about loving them. Not about politics. Isn’t that at least part of the reason we fought a five year war?!” Sure it had been about crests, but crests drove a bunch of marriages!

Edelgard flashed Bernadetta a look of gratitude. She cleared her throat, “I apologize, but Claude, while I value the partnership we have forged as allies following the war, I do not feel like we have ever stopped the politics to focus on getting to know one another.”

Claude gave her a half smile, a sincere one for once, “True. Maybe if there weren’t so many political fires to put out we might have gone on, you know, a date before getting married.”

Edelgard returned a weak smile, “That, that would have been nice.”

“Then maybe you should date?” suggested Hilda. She groaned, “And, and then Hubert and I will plan another wedding once you’ve gotten to know each other?”

Claude strode forward and took Edelgard’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “I think that would be for the best.”

“Then the wedding is off,” said Bernie uncertainly. She was met with nods. Bernie felt bittersweet. She was relieved for Edelgard, but weeping internally for all the stress she’d put herself over regarding that dress!

“Wait just a fucking second,” growled Hubert. A small blood vessel could be seen pulsing on the side of his head. “We have just spent months planning this wedding, someone is getting married, _or else_.” One look at him confirmed that ‘or else’ meant a massacre was nigh.

There was a collective gulp around the room as everyone shrank away from Hubert’s glare. Edelgard cleared her throat, “Well. Guests are already here or on their way, and we cannot get our deposits back,” She paused, “Would, um, would anyone like a free wedding?”

Everyone exchanged glances, and it was decided that even if Edelgard and Claude were not getting married in two days, someone was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy valentine's day? Honestly, I have mixed feelings about V-day, so here's a chapter about a wedding off rather than true love hahahaha
> 
> [if you're reading in the future...this was posted when my time-zone was still in Feb 14th land]


	33. A Wedding Re-purposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding is happening, just with two last minute changes

Hubert looked down at Bernadetta and squeezed her hand. “Are you ready to do this?”

Bernadetta looked up at him and smiled. He was not too hard, he was not too soft, he was just right. They were wearing their matching embroidered flowers. She reached up and adjusted the white rose floral garland she had made for him and nodded. She was finally ready.

They opened the doors and entered the throne room. People stood as they walked down the aisle. Bernie tried not too giggle too much at Hubert’s attempt at a smile as he clumsily threw red rose petals on the ground.

They were the flower girls. Ferdinand had insisted there be some, but no one had children of the correct age and temperament so Bernadetta and Hubert had bravely stepped in. They gratefully retreated to the safety of their seats, saved beside Dorothea and Petra, when they had finally reached the front.

The Prime Minister of Adrestia looked fetching in his wedding suit as he watched his favorite Count in the Alliance walking towards him with a extra large red rose pinned to his chest. They beamed at each other.

The Emperor oversaw the ceremony. She spoke of the importance of love in all its many forms, and its place in their new Fodlan. She spoke of the love of these two men, kept apart by tradition, and overcoming their fears to finally be together for everyone to see. It was a perfect union to represent the new relationship of Adrestia and Leicester.

Hilda sobbed tears of joy as she flashed Hubert a thumbs up because the wedding was finally over and they didn’t have to make any more centerpieces or deal with any more problems.

***

Hubert took a break from micromanaging every aspect of Ferdinand’s big day to dance with Bernadetta. He decided Hilda could handle the cake as one dance turned into two. “I think my mother found a new boyfriend,” whispered Bernadetta with pleasure and surprise. The Countess von Varley had been sat next to a one Raphael Kirsten, and she looked very content with that view.

The king and queen of Faerghus seemed to be enjoying themselves and their baby only cried maybe three times before Byleth finally made Dimitri go take the little prince to bed. Hubert attempted not to gloat as the wedding planners of the Faerghus wedding were forced to compliment all of his excellent work. Later, Hubert and Hilda did shots at the bar and high fived because, as far as they were concerned, they had won the war of the weddings.

Edelgard was chatting pleasantly with Claude. Maybe they would get married someday, but maybe they wouldn’t, they still had to get to know each other. At least Edelgard already had a beautiful wedding dress waiting for her to fall in love with someone.

***

It was extremely late when Bernadetta and Hubert finally left the reception. Bernadetta held Hubert’s hand as they walked through the halls, “Hey do you mind if we stop by my room?”

“People will talk,” he warned her sarcastically as she led the way. He didn’t seem particularly worried about it though as she ducked in to her rooms to grab her overnight bag. It had everything she needed: her toiletries, the complicated, strappy black lingerie Dorothea had talked her into, the non complicated silky lavender sleep set she had also purchased, and her teddy bear, of course.

People who didn’t know them well but remembered them from school were already talking: von Vestra courting von Varley? Who would have seen that coming, didn’t his face scare her? Maybe it had back in school, but not anymore. Bernie found she wasn’t really worried about the opinions of all the people here for the wedding. She was mostly just concerned about how she and Hubert felt about each other.

“Okay um well I need to get ready,” said Bernie cryptically as she watched Hubert pulling lazily at his tie.

“I’ll warm up the bed,” he teased with a yawn.

Bernie locked herself in his bathroom and opened up her bag. She carefully took off her evening gown and the safe boring underwear she normally wore. She stared at herself naked, which was not something she did very often. The residual pain from her wax job had calmed down and she was left with a Dorothea approved looking private area. Bernie sighed and hoped Hubert didn’t like it _too much_ because she was pretty sure she was never doing that again (or maybe just for special occasions). Bernie pulled out the sexy lingerie and panicked. She really should have practiced putting this on.

The basic stuff was easy. Bra on, no confusion there. Panties, or a minimalist interpretation of them, went on fine but Bernie was left with a bunch of straps. She blushed as she realized at least some were for her tights and she pulled those on too. She looked at her self and tried to put on a sexy face. She glanced at her teddy bear, “Any ideas for ol’ Bernie?”

Bernadetta reapplied her lipstick and brushed her hair again. Now she was just stalling. She stared at her reflection, “He loves you, and you should probably tell him that you love him back or he’s never going to know.” She took a deep breath and readied herself to go conquer her fear of sex.

She tried to angle herself sexily in the doorway to Hubert’s bedroom. It was looking much more comfortable than the first time she had been in there. It had slowly transformed from a place where sleep and only sleep occurred to a room with a bit more furniture and decor. It was now a place to cuddle and chat, to craft and complain, to stitch and bitch as it were. It was a place for making out and Bernie was going to make it into a place for making love.

She was met with a snore. “Hubert,” said Bernie as she walked over to the bed. “Hubertttt,” she poked him. He did not wake up. He did snore a little more and roll around. He was solidly asleep.

Bernie sighed, of course he had passed out. He hadn’t really been sleeping for the last week as he waged war on flowers and bakers and party crashers. He had probably taken too many shots with Hilda during the reception too.

Bernadetta was awash with disappointment, and relief. Sex was going to happen, someday. Bernie stared at her Hubert in the bed. Edelgard got scary Hubert to inform Dimitri and Byleth that the plans were changing and Edelgard wasn’t marrying Claude today. Ferdinand got humorless Hubert who looked up the legal loopholes that would allow two men to marry, and then stayed up all night drafting real legislation so that it wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass the next time two men or two women wished to wed. However here, sleeping through Bernadetta’s attempts to lose her virginity, this was Bernie’s Hubie.

He was a little hairy, well, maybe a lot. His laugh required a tolerance not to quiver at, but he laughed a lot especially around Bernie because he thought she was rather hilarious so she had gotten used it. He learned things just for her — how not to scare her, how to hold her, how to kiss her — and she in turn had learned some things for him. She learned to recognize when he was being scary (always to other people, luckily) from when he was just being cranky about life, and that none of it was personal like when he cursed at his embroidery needle because his fingers were big and still learning how not to be clumsy.

Bernie sighed and went back into the bathroom to change into her more comfortable sleep outfit. She came back with her teddy bear and curled up beside Hubert. She worked up her courage and kissed him goodnight, “I love you.” Maybe tomorrow she’d be able to tell him when he was awake. Although maybe she wouldn’t, but she knew he’d be patient about it.

***

The next morning when she woke up, she dared to stretch her toes to trace them up Hubert’s leg. Hubert shifted and rolled to face her. She could see just slivers of his green eyes spying on her, “Good morning.” He opened an arm to allow her to curl up at his side. Bernadetta let one leg come up over him as she rubbed gently against him. Hubert seemed sleepy but amused, “You appear to be rather excited.”

“As do you,” she teased as her hand brushed dangerously close to his morning salute.

Hubert gave a self deprecating scoff. “I would like to say it’s from waking up to the delightful sight of you beside me, but I’m afraid this is a regular occurrence,” groaned Hubert as his free hand came up to lazily work himself. “I was under the impression this was something only teenage boys had to deal with, so imagine my distress when I turned twenty at a school full of pretty girls and it was still happening.” He shook his head as if at a stupid and distant memory, “I pitied our youngest classmates, prisoners of their own desire. At least I had myself in check during class. Some of the sounds Linhardt made while napping, well, they were just indecent.”

“How ever did you manage?” asked Bernadetta carefully as her hand came to join his.

“With many noxious handkerchiefs.” Hubert took a deep breath at the sudden touch as he let her take over. She was always surprised by the warmth of his cock, and how her hand only seemed to excite it further.

His eyes were shut as she stared at him. His face was not very scary at all when she had him like this. He was vulnerable and trusting in this state, and it was unusual to see him so unguarded. She could get used to waking up next to him like this. She was growing accustomed to his lips on her skin, to his fingers in her hair, and to the looks she knew read as tender rather than threatening. She wanted to get used to feeling him within her, she wanted to know what his weight would feel like on top of her, and she wanted to know what it was like to be on top of him.

Hubert’s eyes flickered open as she slowed her hand and rolled to be on her own back. Bernadetta pulled at his arms to guide him over her. His arms came to rest on either side of her as he settled between her legs. His head came down so that he could kiss her softly. She looked up at him with anticipation, “I think I’m ready to um, do it.”

Hubert looked at her rather neutrally as his hands adjusted themselves, “Are you sure?” Bernadetta nodded, and the two of them set to getting their clothes off. Bernie turned her teddy bear’s eyes away so it would not see.

Hubert lightly touched where Dorothea had convinced her to get a quick wax job and Bernadetta bit her lip, “Do you like it?”

“I appreciate the gesture, but do not feel the need to maintain things on my account,” he whispered as he started to explore her. “I like it a little wild myself.” His grin was always wicked, hungry, wolfish. It didn’t remind her of death or the battlefield anymore. It reminded her now of a mouth she was used to on her skin, a mouth that if she let her eyes linger on it to long would be coming after her with a kiss. Hubert’s fingers teased inside her. He looked satisfied as he pulled them free, “Well, you certainly feel ready, but don’t hesitate to tell me to stop, at any point. Do you understand?” Bernadetta nodded as she drew in a deep breath.

Hubert slowly spread her legs apart and helped tip her hips into a good position as he teased at her entrance. “You don’t have to hold your breath,” he whispered. Bernadetta realized she wasn’t breathing and exhaled in surprise. Hubert took that moment to slide within her. He was in shallow at first and took a few testing thrusts before fully filling her. She didn’t feel pain per say, it just felt different. However as Hubert started to get into a steady rhythm, things started to feel good.

Bernadetta let out a gasp as Hubert grinned at her. His movements were precise and not too rough as he glided in and out, “You are extremely wet Ms. von Varley, what were you dreaming about?”

“Embroidered flowers,” she moaned because it was true. The unworn wedding dress was still haunting her sleep.

She could _feel_ Hubert laughing because it was shaking his whole body, and by extension, shaking him inside her, “I’ll have to request some more if it’s such a turn on for you.”

Bernie bit her lip and tried not to squeal at the sensation of him. Hubert noticed and took a hold of her hips, “Let it all out, every sound, even the ones you’re afraid of.”

Bernadetta, much to her surprise, found out she had quite a few noises she’d never heard herself make before.

“Apparently there are times when I do enjoy making you scream,” whispered Hubert breathlessly as he cuddled beside her afterward.

“What happens now?” asked Bernie, growing nervous once more.

Hubert gently kissed her shoulder, “Whatever you want. I suggest that we clean up, and then we should go eat some breakfast.”

“No, I mean, what happens now that the wedding is done?” asked Bernie softly.

Hubert’s fingers were tracing over her exposed skin, “Well. I suppose you might want to go home.”

“But what happens with us? I mean, I can’t just live here in Enbarr with all my responsibilities at home, but, I don’t really want to leave,” said Bernie.

“Then don’t leave,” whispered Hubert fondly as he propped up his head and looked at her. “I’m sure I can create a reason for you to be here. Maybe another wedding dress—”

“No,” begged Bernadetta in horror. “I am not making another wedding dress ever.”

“Really?” asked Hubert dubiously as he kissed her hand. “I apologize for assuming you would wish to make your own.”

“Like unmarriageable Bernie’s getting married,” she grumbled.

Hubert sighed as he listened to her, “Stay here for a moment.”

Bernadetta sat up and pulled the sheet up in surprise as Hubert left the bed. He was leaving? She finally had sex with him, and he just bolted? Bernie panicked and made to follow after him. She paused for want of a robe, anything cover up with, and hurried back into her sleep clothes. She found him in his tiny study digging through his roll top desk. “What are you doing?”

Hubert straightened up in surprise at her appearance in the doorway. He looked especially pale in the dimly lit room with no clothes on. He lacked anywhere to hide the simple box in his hands. He cleared his throat and strode over to Bernie. “I had wished to wait until after the fanfare of Edelgard’s would-be wedding had passed. I wanted to put some time between that and this so that this too did not have to occur in the Emperor’s shadow. I wanted this to be a special moment just for us.”

Bernie felt her stomach clenching up in confusion. Hubert smirked slightly as looked down at his nakedness, “This is also not really an appropriate set up for a proper proposal I’m afraid. I can’t really imagine having to tell anyone how I romantically dropped to one knee, fully nude, to do this.”

Bernadetta’s throat felt like it was closing as she listened to him. “I’m confused.”

Hubert opened the box to reveal a thin ring set with a purple stone, “That’s because I’m doing a poor job at asking if you might like to marry me.” He paused and drew in a breath, “I would still like to do this properly and as a surprise, a few months from now, but I have gotten the sense that you think, for some reason, that I am not seriously in love with you and wish to be with you, for the rest of my life.”

“Y-you want to marry, me?” sputtered out Bernie in surprise.

“Well if you’ll have me,” said Hubert hesitantly. “I think if anyone here is unmarriageable it might be me.”

“I don’t think you’re unmarriageable,” said Bernie quietly as her stomach did anxious flip flops at all that was happening. He was looking extra marriageable, just for her.

Hubert pulled out the ring and braced himself as he put an exposed knee down upon the cold floor, “Then shall we get engaged?”

“W-wait!” said Bernadetta. Hubert’s eyes got wide with suspense. Bernie rested her hands on his shoulders, even on his knees he was still quite tall, “You said you didn’t want to propose this way! I-I want you to do it how you want, properly!” She also wanted to be able to tell people like her mother how he proposed, because she was never telling anyone about this!

Hubert bit his lip, “Do you think you’ll say yes?” Bernie nodded with nervous excitement at the prospect. Hubert grinned and got up as he snapped the box shut.

Hubert returned the ring to its hiding place while Bernadetta awkwardly hung by the door. He came back to her and to her surprise scooped her up in his arms to carry her back to the bed. Hubert sat her down and then came to rest beside her. He paused and regarded her with a gentle expression. “Are you still scared of me?” whispered Hubert softly as he gently tucked her hair behind one ear.

The answer was, yes, sometimes, a little. Bernie gulped, “Yeah, but love is scary!”

Hubert grinned at her, “Other than love, if there’s anything else you find scary, well, you let me know and I’ll remove it.”

It was true that Hubert still managed to scare Bernadetta for years to come. He scared her sometimes when he had arguments in his dreams with Ferdinand. He scared her when he’d suddenly curse after realizing he’d dropped a stitch while knitting. He scared her when he threw her a birthday party, and after she ran away screaming, he and all their friends collectively realized that maybe a surprise party was not the best choice for her. He scared her when they went backpacking through Brigid when he stepped off the trail for a discreet pee break, and she was sure he’d fallen into the clutches of the world’s largest known carnivorous plant.

She sat at the edge of the cliff, where below a grove of the massive plants lay. She looked at one that was clearly feeding on something big and teared up, “I am so sorry Hubert! When I suggested we visit Brigid I never thought you would fall prey to a plant! I’d save you, but these are an extremely rare endangered species—”

“What are you doing?” asked Hubert in confusion as he came up behind her, clearly not in a state of mid-digestion within the giant butterwort.

Bernie screamed and nearly fell of the cliff herself, but Hubert caught her. It was a rather uneventful honeymoon otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND IT'S DONE. Thank you dear readers for making this my most viewed and engaged-with fic, I really appreciated knowing that people were coming along for the ride, even as it meandered and twisted and turned as this story barreled ahead from a little <2k oneshot to...93k words. Hopefully I handle comedy a bit better than brevity!  
> ///  
> I imagine someday Bernie and Hubert have a little adorable baby. Bernie finally hears her precious child laugh...and it sounds just like Hubert! Internally she's thinking, "I love you, but whyyyy do you have to sound so sinister!?" (and then their kid grows up to be Tharja or something haha).


End file.
